


Something Lost; Something Gained

by Bravehardt, Foxglove_Fiction



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Fluff and Humor, IronStrange, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sanctum Sanctorum (Marvel), Slow Burn, more tags added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-26 21:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bravehardt/pseuds/Bravehardt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxglove_Fiction/pseuds/Foxglove_Fiction
Summary: It doesn't pay to be a hero and with the Sanctum Sanctorum's Seal of the Vishanti shattered, Stephen must turn to a certain someone for financial aid in order to restore it. Unfortunately everything has it's price, whether it be financial restitution, or free and unlimited use of Stephen's abilities for a couple weeks.What's the worst that could happen?





	1. Little Blue Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another ongoing and fun collaborative piece between Foxglove_Fiction and myself! We worked so well together on the last story we decided to do another, this one in smaller installments but a longer story, hope you guys enjoy. All feedback will be greatly appreciated!

There was a hole in the roof of the Sanctum Sanctorum, and all the might of mother nature seemed intent on making Greenwich Village very, _very_ wet.   
  
It hadn’t been raining when Stephen Strange first began his assessment of the damage to the Sanctum, inspecting the massive breach where the Seal of the Vishanti was previously set. The day had seemed pleasant enough, with a crisp autumn breeze causing some of the books scattered about the forward sitting room to flutter through pages. Ideal weather to try and take stock of the damage again and consider setting up a tarp until he could find some way to fix it.

Fixing it would be a trick though.

Saving the world, as it turned out, was _not_ a paying job and it never felt right to take money from those who came to the Sanctum seeking his aid - last time he’d simply asked that they take extra care for their sickly neighbour, and perhaps bring him soup and tea. Passing along the kindness.

But kindness alone wasn’t going to fix this hole.  
  
It required materials, which required _money_ . It required professional labourers, which required _money_.

Wasn’t that an entirely frustrating kick in the ass?  
  
There had been no notice whatsoever of the impending rain but a sudden crack in the sky and a following scaturient cloudburst left the Cloak of Levitation feeling like a soaked, saggy blanket around Stephen’s shoulders. Heavy, and weirdly warm _but uncomfortable._   
  
And so it was that Doctor Strange ended up in Tony Stark’s office, water dripping down his face and dragging wet strands along his skin with them, soaked through and through, and looking far from his usually well-put-together self.   
  
“Stark… If you have a moment.” 

Tony wasn’t sure what he’d been alerted to first. The hissing of a spinning amber portal which materialized out of nowhere, the drops of water that somehow managed to spray his backside as Stephen exited the portal, or the commanding yet stale voice he heard as the doctor invaded his personal work space, issuing demands.  
  
Needless to say it was probably a combination of those things attributing to Tony going rigid and jumping in his seat, heart beating a mile-a-minute as his eyes almosted bugged out of his skull. He dropped the tablet he’d been using to revise some blueprints for his next suit, white-knuckled in his chair.   
  
Tony spun around and took a look at the sorcerer. Stephen looked like an animal that had just been locked out and left out in the rain; had it not been for the trespass, Tony would have made a wise comment somewhere along the lines of how he was ‘wet with excitement to see him’.   
  
“Jesus haven’t you ever heard of a doorbell? Or a phone?” Tony had his hands resting on the arms of his chair as he looked up at Strange. “You know I thought having the ability to portal in and out at will kind of defeated the purpose of having to go out walking in the rain.” He started, having been preoccupied and focused on his project - the interruption left him a bit frayed.

“That also answers my question about the weather...” He tilted his head down at the pool of water beneath Stephen’s feet.

“... There’s a hole in my ceiling,” Was all the response he gave to explain his state. “The stairs were one thing to fix, but the window Doctor Banner came crashing through is called the Seal of the Vishanti - a magical ward that can’t quite be cleaned up as easily as a flight of stairs.”  
  
Or ignored.

The stairs had definitely been ignored for a little bit. Between the fact that Stephen didn’t _have_ to use them, and that Wong had maintained intermittent residence between the Sanctum and Kamar-Taj in the continued absence of Mordo, the stairs hadn’t been the highest priority. Especially given that they seemed to be working on knitting themselves together in their own time.   
  
There was a certain stiffness in the way Stephen stood, though he followed Tony’s gaze to the puddle he was leaving on the floor and sighed before his lips tightened.

“I need your help fixing that window.”

The sorcerer was proud of himself for not choking on those words, as much as he hated hearing them leave his mouth, and his arms crossed over his chest in a slightly closed off, defensive manner. He raised his eyes from the puddle on the floor to look at the brunette, sitting there looking warm-as-you-please in his dry clothes.  
  
“Naturally, I don’t expect something for nothing, but the seal is one of _three_ that protect the Earth from extradimensional attacks. So there’s a certain _urgency_ to repairing it, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“I’m sorry what-was-that?” Tony turned his head as if to accentuate the fact that he was trying to get Stephen to repeat his demand in such a juvenile manner. _Oh he heard,_ but Tony stark was basically a child in a man’s body.   
  
Fact.   
  
“You need a man in your life who can fix things?” Tony stuck out his tongue and grabbed his windbreaker off the back of his chair. “Hang on a sec while I grab my robe and wizard’s hat.” He all but leaned over and plucked his tablet off the desk, tucking it under his arm.   
  
But not before generating a hologram of a literal wizard’s hat, which he stuck right on his head.

Yes, this was something he’d prepared for this very instance simply to antagonize Stephen.  
  
“Uhh, do you want a coffee, tea or something? Maybe just take a hot second to dry off before you catch a cold.” Tony reached out to touch the cloak to see just how soaked the article of clothing was. It was stiff, wet and he could almost picture in his mind just how weighted it was drenched in water.

Stephen’s lips thinned a bit further, mirthless as he watched Tony’s antics. He hadn’t exactly expected more from the other and his fingers curled into his arms in the slightest display of his displeasure, but the Cloak barely moved other than to give a weak shudder as though it too felt miserable in its state.  
  
“If there’s a _woman contractor_ you’d suggest I’ll be just as happy to take it up with _her_ , but I _assumed_ given that this has to do with keeping Earth protected _you_ would be more invested in it being done.” There was a clear distaste in his tone as he looked off to one side, then back again.   
  
“Besides, most people aren’t in the habit of bartering, and I’m afraid that’s the point.” The words felt unpleasant on his tongue as he spoke, but his steely eyes on Tony were steady and serious.   
  
“I can put on something dry at home… but I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to a hot cup of tea,” he added as he noticed the distinct quiver in his core of a chill. He certainly wasn’t going to catch a cold, but that didn’t stop him from _feeling_ cold.

“Ok you may not be cold, but your sopping wet neglected cloak is, how callous of you Stephen! The poor thing might just catch a cold _for you._ ” If ancient mystical artifacts could? Tony didn’t know, he didn’t know the first thing about magic. But it sure was fun to just ride Strange for all of these little things.   
  
“Fri - You heard the man, mind doing us the honours?” Tony yelled to the nebulous space around him, and the gentle voice of his A.I. responded with a _“Right away boss.”_   
  
“Thanks sweetheart.” Tony adjusted his holographic hat and smirked at Stephen. “And no, it’s just me…” He paused a moment as Stephen continued to look unimpressed, “What? You don’t think I’m capable of fixing a roof?” There was a false undertone of indignation to Tony’s inflection, but it was easy to see through the jestering facade he wore.

“If there’s a sink somewhere, I can let it wring itself out. At the moment, however, it’s doing its best not to drip all over your floor.”

Because the cloak was clearly more courteous than the drenched magician, who continued to loom in his spot with a patch of water beneath his feet. He at least brushed a few wet strands of hair out of his face finally, as one tickled his forehead.

“Sink’s in the back of the workshop.” Tony nodded his head towards the office door which fed into said workshop. “Shouldn’t be hard to find.”

The cloak slunk away of its own volition in search of a place to wring itself dry, leaving Stephen to straighten just a little bit under slightly less strain without the heavy article of clothing weighing his shoulders down.

The voice from before alerted them that their drinks were ready, and it caught the sorcerer’s attention. In a brief moment Stephen’s eyes had darted up and about, automatically seeking a source but not immediately distressed to be unable to find one.

A receptionist? A secretary? Stark’s new girlfriend? He stole a glance towards the door for a moment, before returning his gaze to the other man.  
  
“I think you’re perfectly competent at fixing a roof, or I wouldn’t have wasted my time coming here Stark, I should think that’s obvious. The questions are more are you _willing_ to, and what do you want _in exchange_?”

Tony walked over to a hatch in the wall grabbing a couple smooth, tall porcelain mugs. One with a rubber lid brimming with steeped tea, the other with coffee - _technology was a wonder!_   
  
“-Yeah! What didn’t you get about the hat? It’s my go-hat baby!” He handed the mug over to Strange. “Also, you’re no fun at all. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a statue?” Tony was already sipping from the mug he’d procured, eyes peering over the top of the cup to politely maintain eye-contact with the stone-faced sorcerer.   
  
Stephen looked cute, of course Tony had always thought he was wildly attractive. But he sure didn’t _act_ cute.

_Tough crowd._

The taller man rolled his neck to one side and then back again before taking the mug with a look of surprise.

“... Where…?” He started, before letting the question trail off into oblivion. It didn’t matter where the tea had come from. There was tea and the comforting warmth of a hot mug in his hands. Stephen pulled the mug closer to his chest to tuck under his chin, inhaling steam and wonderful herbal notes.

Stephen finally offered a hint of a smile, shaking off his momentary bewilderment and confusion.

“ _Ah_ , is _that_ what the hat was for? I assumed you were mocking me.” It was a stereotype, but who was he to correct Stark, anyway? Peter had decided he was a wizard courtesy of Stark too, and there had thus far been no progress on _correcting_ that. He imagined if he brought it up with the engineer, the man would make a point of calling him a wizard eternally.

“You weren’t wrong, I made this hat on the off occasion you might come over.” He started, hands cradling the soothing warm mug in his palms. “But I’m in, we’ll get that roof fixed. Any threat to you is a _threat to me_ . It would be poor P.R. for a company to ignore a small issue that could easily blow up into a bigger one.” It just made sense, didn't it?   
  
Tony appreciated the light smile on Stephen’s face, at last a crack in the stone-cold mask.

If Stephen was at all surprised that the hat had been created specifically for him, he didn’t show it more than to raise his eyes a little to look at it briefly before returning his attentions to Tony himself.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement about the roof at least.”

“Unlike you I don’t live in a cave; it’s called a coffee-maker my primitive friend.” Tony stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He took a seat next to where Stephen was standing, ushering him to also sit. He had leather couches lining his walls, he was sure a little water wouldn’t hurt them - not that he cared at all anyways.

“Yes, well, the Sanctum isn’t exactly _friendly_ towards electronics, I’ll admit, so I’m out of the habit of thinking of something like a coffee maker. Nothing ever seems to work.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought as he sipped at his tea, letting the warmth seep in, before looking at the seat in contemplation for a moment before taking up the seat nearest Tony.

“But I suppose I should have expected you’d have things more… _voice activated_. I assumed the woman you’d spoken with was an assistant or something.” Stephen wanted to move on to the more pressing matter at hand. “Then the matter of your payment?”

“Let’s see… oh you can be my portal bitch for a couple weeks, how does that sound?” Tony quirked a brow. It bothered him to watch the other man sitting there in cold, sopping wet clothes. _It made him feel cold as well._

The sorcerer had started to take another sip of tea when he heard Stark’s words, leaving him to sputter a little, setting the tea carefully to the side as he coughed.

“ _E-excuse me?_ ” No, he’d heard. ‘ _Portal bitch_.’

Definitely heard it loud and clear.  
  
Giving himself a minute to recover from the tea that had taken an impromptu trip to his lungs, Stephen covered his mouth to cough once more softly.

“Don’t you already _have_ people to transport you places? A chauffeur? Private jets?”

There was no denying that Tony Stark was a busy man, though. He knew full well how much more time the man could dedicate to _literally_ anything else with the time saved in transit.

“But very well, if that’s what you’d like.” Stephen conceded after a moment's hesitation.

Tony picked up his little digital hat and reached over, setting the glowing hologram on Stephen’s noggin. He had to stifle a soft chuckle at how ridiculous Stephen actually looked sitting there in sopping wet robes, stone-cold gaze and a cartoonish hologram of a blue star-spangled hat.

“I don’t-” Stephen started as Tony began to set the hat on his head, before sighing a long-suffering sigh. “Is the hat really necessary?” Stephen wasn’t sure why he’d even asked. He knew it wasn’t. But Tony seemed pleased enough about it.

“It suits you.” He stated, just ingesting all the information Stephen was feeding him about this technological misery-of-a-place. It’s a wonder the damned thing even allowed electricity! He wondered how badly the sorcerer had to fight with the _haunted house_ to get it to agree on such a simple commodity.

“And you heard me! I honestly didn’t think you’d agree, I wasn’t serious but - hey! If you are saying yes, I’ll take it!” He grinned, giving the man next to him a cheshire smile.

“I get to tell Wong and everyone else that you’re my bitch!” Tony was having way too much fun with this, he clearly needed to _grow up_.

“Oh, and no take-backs either.”

Stephen took a deep breath to keep himself from setting his jaw too hard at Tony’s declaration - particularly because he knew full well what Wong would interpret that kind of statement as meaning.

And that was a dangerous path to go down.

He sipped at his tea again, giving a slight shiver as the warmth reminded him just how _cold_ the rest of him actually felt. And where was his cloak, anyway? A quick scan of the room made it obvious enough. The cloak had found itself a warm vent to finish drying off over apparently, leaving the sorcerer to shake his head with a little smile, settling back into the seat further.   
  
“Transporting you when needed is a small price to pay for fixing a gap in Earth’s security - and the hole in the roof.” Stephen continued. “But if we could maintain _some_ degree of professionalism in the matter? I _don’t_ think you want to have that conversation with Wong.” Hopefully that was warning enough.

“Wow, you’re such a stiff.” Tony commented, he gave Stephen a few wholesome pats on his shoulder, immediately regretting it as the water drenching his clothes seemed to slosh off with the force of the gesture.

Tony wiped his hand on his pant leg. He stared back at Stephen with an eccentric smile, he hardly looked like a capable founder.

Cold. Soggy. Tired. Why not stiff, too? The last of the sorcerer’s good humour had been spent the night before freeing a child from some kind of psychic nightmare attack, but he could barely bring himself to consider how much she probably would have loved the hat. _She_ was a child. Tony Stark was _not_ a child, and yet he made such a big deal over a _stupid hat._   
  
What was his excuse?   
  
Maverick. Genius. Futurist. Inventor. They were good excuses. Each of them.

 _Damn Stark._   
  
“I can say I’ve talked my way out of much worse before.” He spoke as if this was a conversation he was intending on having with Stephen’s companion rather than aim to avoid it. He reached up to straighten the hat on Stephen’s head which seemed to sag sadly to the side.

“-and hey, I can do professional, I run my own damn company.”

 _Pepper actually runs Tony’s company now,_ and mostly the A.I. he built.

“Oh, is running a company what you do, here?” Stephen inquired after a sip of tea, though he watched the way the blue lights from ‘his’ hat played on the liquid in his cup rather than watching the mogul’s face. “And here I was of the impression that you were designing waterproof wizard-wear.” A hand gestured absently to the starry blue thing that was _somehow_ following his head as he moved, rather like it really was on his head. That was a little odd.   
  
He tried imagining the kinds of things the other man had needed to explain away (and really some of those things he didn’t have to _imagine_ , and others he _shouldn’t have imagined_ , damn his mind) and imagining the brunette trying to explain away Stephen being Stark’s ‘bitch’ to Wong didn’t really add up the way it should have.

“-You know, on second thought, if that’s the conversation you want to have with Wong _be my guest_.”  Curious grey eyes glanced over his cup again at Tony, and he finally offered an amused smile.

If Stark wanted to get in over his head with Wong, great. It would be nice to watch someone else hit that brick wall of a man and fail to make an impression. Wong was particular about what he found amusing.

“Ease-up Mr. Serious-Pants, jeez you’re awfully spicy for someone who just got drenched in a torrential downpour.” Tony chortled at the chiding remarks. He took everything the man said with a grain of salt, simply enjoying the other’s company.  
  
There weren’t many people who could take Stark’s incessant berating and throw it right back at him with equal multitude. He quite enjoyed the banter, it was always about the climb, not the finish and it always felt like there was friction, heat, or an opposition in views interacting with Stephen.   
  
_And this, he quite enjoyed._   
  
“Alright, well you’re going to have to introduce me to the parent around here at some point, is Wong going to give me the ‘dad talk’?” Stark rose to his feet, waiting for Stephen to do the same. He also peered around trying to see if he could spot his cloak and hoping that it wasn’t running amok in the facility upstairs.

“Have you considered that perhaps being soaked through to the bone is precisely _why_ I’m feeling spicy?” The wet wizard watched the other man carefully as he finished off his tea - and thus deprived himself of the warmth of that cup. _Damn._ Now he’d definitely need to be getting changed if he wanted to get warm. 

“No, but also I figured it would have had the opposite effect, you know, maybe cool you down a bit.”

Sighing softly, Stephen started to straighten himself so he could stand, though his feet found no real traction against the wet spot he’d left on the floor.   
  
A swift flash of red brought the cloak from where it had been drying by a vent to wrap around the sorcerer, poking insistently at his cheeks and face as though chiding him. Stephen simply sagged into the all-encompassing heat of it for a moment, feeling the small twinge in his back where he’d started to twist to catch himself.   
  
“Hey, hey, I’m okay. Just water… I just slipped.”

Regardless, the cloak curled itself around him and lifted him to be deposited somewhere not quite so wet, lest the man slip again.

Tony had jumped backwards, startled when the cloak had shot past him like a bullet. He did not recall the cloak having the capability to move so fast, a detail he’d have to keep in mind in case he ever managed to tick the thing off. Stephen cast Tony a wry look.

“Well... This is _mom_ apparently. As to Wong, he’s not living in the Sanctum at the moment - there’s a certain absence of Masters in the wake of everything that’s happened, and Wong is currently of more benefit overall at Kamar-Taj.”   
  
“I’m sure mum takes good care of you.” Tony reached over to give the cloak a gentle pat, the fabric still pleasantly hot, like fresh laundry from a dryer - he was almost jealous that Stephen had a nice warm blanket now _and he didn't_ . 

The warmth really did feel nice, and neither Stephen nor the cloak seemed to mind Tony’s touch.

“It’s saved my life on more than one occasion. I’d say that’s taking good care of me indeed.” There was an affectionate undertone to his voice as he spoke about the fretful piece of clothing, and the cloak ceased its smothering in response.  
  
“If you would do the honours, we should probably head out now, take a look at that _hole of yours_.” Tony waited for Stephen to open up one of his spinning portals.

Lifting his hands to open the portal with swift ease, Stephen offered a mock bow and gestured towards the glowing portal... And the rather damp looking Sanctum beyond it.

“Your portal, Mister Stark.” Stepping through and into the Sanctum, Stephen immediately re-assessed the situation - there was a little bit of dripping from the ceiling, still, the tarp cast over it bowing in only slightly with the water. Buckets were positioned around the floor, half-full and almost musical in the different pitches of sounds they made as the water dripped into them.  
  
_It was a disaster._   
  
“Welcome back to Sanctum Sanctorum.”

Tony hesitantly stepped through the swirling portal; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to how surreal that was, exiting from one location and immediately re-appearing in another. He touched down onto a wet tiled floor and almost managed to lose his balance as Stephen had back at the compound.  
  
There were negligible repairs done on the staircase, only enough it seemed to make it accessible and even then it was still a hazard.   
  
“Man, Bruce really did a number on this place, huh...” He commented, never actually realizing the extent of the damage as the last time he was here, there were much more pressing matters to concern himself with.

“I don’t hold Doctor Banner accountable in the slightest. I don’t know exactly how he got here, but he seemed about as confused and disoriented by the location as Wong and I were to have him here.” The sorcerer shrugged a shoulder.  
  
Tony looked up at the open window, rainfall pouring in through the gaps in the tarp, he pointed at Stephen.

“-Hey, don’t get my hat wet.” Jokingly, and turned his attention back to the window.

“So, I could fix this, but is there any specific or special way we need to go about this rather than just reconstructing it with materials? Your spooky house seems to be pretty particular.”

“For the most part, the Sanctum will heal - it sits on a profound magical nexus that it draws on for its own strength.” Stephen gestured absently to some areas of the banister which seemed almost as though they were slowly growing together, like two branches of a tree might. Organic, flowing, steadily beginning to right itself.

“A lot of the damage has already been healed by the house thankfully, because I’ve had a lot to catch up on in my absence.”

Stepping over to a table, scarred fingers leafed through a few pages of a book, and he carefully nudged the hat forward a little bit to allow the light of it to illuminate the pages. He smiled, settling a paper weight on two corners to keep the book open, tapping a diagram.

“These are the exact measurements of the Seal of the Vishanti as it had been built here to begin with, but naturally I can take you to the London Sanctum briefly if required, and you can see the materials and seal as it should be for yourself.”

Tony plodded up to the opening in the stairs, he was quite surprised at the way the Sanctum seemed to self-regenerate. It was a marvel in it’s own, a spectacle he doubted he’d be able to get used to any time soon.  
  
“Alright, so fixing this window up here is top priority then… And you said this was a seal? I’m assuming it’s more than _just a window_ by the sounds of it.” He approached Stephen and looked over the all the diagrams to gauge the measurements of it.   
  
“Yeah, let’s do that. If you can help me figure out what the materials are, I can send the plans off and commission a replacement.” He fingered the paper; the design was intricate but seemed simple enough for any master artisan, and it wasn’t as though he had limited resources and finances at his disposal. He could easily just do it himself.   
  
“Honestly, I might actually be able to just do this myself with a large-scale 3D printer. Print the smaller parts, assemble them and then casting the glass wouldn’t be too hard of a task.” Tony rubbed his chin, head tilted before he looked back at Stephen, and while Stephen wasn’t going to admit it out loud, he certainly felt much less worried about _Tony_ doing the repairs than a complete stranger.

“Though, I have to ask, why of all things are windows something the Sanctum itself can’t reform. Or is it just a matter of time being of the essence?” Tony was genuinely curious.

“It’s one of the magical seals that protects the Earth. Last time all three were broken…” The doctor trailed off. “Well, there’s a reason we’re lacking in Masters of the Mystic Arts right now.” _And why he struggled to sleep at night._ But that was neither here nor there.   
  
And he definitely needed to be here.   
  
He hesitated for a moment as he straightened, looking towards the window again and sighed. “So, I _actually don’t know_ . So far, after all of this time, the roof hasn’t shown any signs of regenerating itself - that’s part of why I hadn’t started to work on it sooner, I figured it would do it’s thing given adequate time. I’m not certain whether it’s because the magic stems from beneath the ground and so the house is repairing itself from the ground up, or if there’s something that prevents the Seal from being reformed on its own... But there hasn’t been any change thus far in the structure of the roof.”   
  
Stephen hated not having the answers - especially given he was the _Master_ of this Sanctum, it definitely felt like something he _should_ know.

“But either way, time _is_ of the essence. The barrier protecting the Earth remains weakened the longer this goes on, and I’m already up to my elbows in clients with living walls and phantoms, and monsters under their beds. It would be nice if there was just a _little_ less to worry about.”   
  
“Tell ya what, take me over to the London Sanctum and I’ll have a look at the materials in the wards there. So long as you’re sure that the components are universal all around the sanctums, I can probably get the parts in half a day, and have it assembled in another,” He tapped the sheet flashing Stephen a wide smirk.   
  
Tony was happy to support a friend in need, he understood Stephen as being one of the more distant of their comrades and as the pillar of their initiative, Tony liked to oversee everything and take care of any issues in regards to defense on an international scale. This problem was also not an entirely selfish venture, in fact far from it.   
  
“If you wanted to oversee the process that’s fine, it would be mostly me, and a couple of extra hands. I really just need to order the parts and generate a 3D model off the diagram and a few photos, a 3D scan of at least one intact ward would make my job easier and expedite the process.”

Tony looked up, on his tippy-toes he straightened the holographic hat on Stephen’s head, _it had slid over a bit._   
  
“-Piece of cake! we’ll have that lovely sky-light of your fixed in no time honeybunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” There was a hint of relief in the sorcerer’s voice, as though he hadn’t been entirely certain that everything was going to work out until that moment.  
  
“The materials _are_ all universal, I can guarantee that. They simply must in order to be compatible with the magical enchantments - we only use materials that are capable of that. So if one Sanctum is built that way and the seal functions, then any others should as well.” Stephen let out a soft sigh.   
  
“I’m going to get changed into something dry before we head to the London Sanctum, if you don’t mind waiting a moment.” With a soft flutter of the cloak, Stephen made his way to the upper floor.

“Please do try not to wander off. As damp and dreary as the foyer is, at least there’s nothing dangerous in it.” He paused in his spot for a moment as he glanced upwards towards his hat.   
  
“... and what do I do with _this_?”

Tony had his arms crossed, no intention of moving from his designated spot.

“Keep it.”


	2. Slippery When Wet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen travel to the London Sanctum to look at the seal, they then head back to Tony's workshop to get started on the blueprints for the new one.

Tony had a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

He’d been sitting, waiting and staring up at the wide array of relics out on display on the towering bookshelves lining the walls of the Sanctum’s main foyer. He wondered what exactly each of them did and just how dangerous they were. For a house that could regenerate its own foundation, he speculated on just what else it held in store and the multitude of secrets and surprises buried within.

There were doors lining the upper balcony of the Atrium’s main terrace and he had to wonder where each one led to. Tony half imagined opening one and finding the most robust things behind the door, like a room to nothing... Or a room full of frogs?

Maybe the place was even _haunted_ too! He imagined the old structure as a spitting image of one of those haunted Scooby-Doo houses that would prey upon it’s tenants and visitors one by one.   
  
The Sanctum had a warm and rustic ambiance to it, but thanks to the gaping hole above, and the wind howling through the tarp hastily erected to block out the rain, all he got were the chills which lent to the haunted vibe for sure.   
  
Tony reached over to pick up a peculiar looking orb, running his fingers over its smooth surface. It had a comforting weight to it, engraved with various different runes and symbols.

Strange sure collected some weird paper-weights that’s for sure.

Finally dry and in equally dry robes, Stephen had affixed the entirely uncalled for hat onto his head again, having taken the time without Stark’s prying eyes to study it more closely and conclude there was nothing inherently intrusive about the thing.

No one with any kind of intelligence could say that Tony Stark was not a master of his craft, and despite the simplicity of it, even the hat was still a work of art. As much as a digital hat could be a ‘work of art.’

The sound of footsteps announced the return of the sorcerer as he strategized his descent carefully down the stairs, being particular about his footing as he stepped around the rather large gap and a couple of loose boards that didn’t seem wholly like they’d support his weight just yet.

Tony’s attention was on the sorcerer, he’d heard the shifting of the wooden panels and light footfalls but only decided to draw his eyes to Stephen when he spoke.  
  
Oh, _he still had the hat on._

Letting the cloak trail behind him as he reached the landing, grey eyes finally lifted to settle on the waiting brunette.

He gave the man a mildly amused look.

“Be careful what you play with, Stark. If that opens up, you’re going to be getting very friendly with a very cute demon of excitement. You’re excitable enough without her help.”  
  
As elegant and still-mannered as the mystic arts master was, the silly little hat that Stephen had opted to keep adorning his noggin with seriously undercut his aloof disposition. But Stark still couldn’t help but feel a small part of him swell with a fondness at the other’s choice to continue playing along with his little running gag.   
  
Thus he met Stephen with a rather sheepish grin, feeling as if he’d just been scolded by a parent. He fumbled with the round object in his hands to get it back on the table realizing the weight of Stephen’s warning.

_Best not touch that..._   
  
“Why the hell would you keep something like that out in the open, isn’t there a special place in this massive house of horrors for things like that?”

“Don’t you leave things out when you’re studying them?” Stephen inquired as he watched Tony’s hand set the device back down. Moving to the table, he adjusted something slightly to make certain the device was still appropriately locked.   
  
“I’m trying to sort out where she came from to send her _home_. Having her near at hand so I can ask her things is helpful, but I can only handle her in very short bursts.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one.” Tony made sure to steady the artifact as it teetered a bit from his mishandling.  
  
Frankly, Stephen was too exhausted most of the time to deal with a creature with so much excitement, and he was glad Tony _hadn’t_ released her, because he had no idea how he would cope with that kind of energy beyond to simply restrain the businessman. Which he wasn’t _wholly_ opposed to.  
  
“If you’re done _touching_ _things_ , shall we head to London?”

With a brisk nod Tony pushed off the chair to stand, he hurried over to the bottom of the staircase where Stephen stood with his sling-ring in hand ready to cast.  
  
“Also I have to say, good taste in accessories doc, the outfit looks sharp.” He wondered if Stephen actually planned to wear the hat to the Sanctum. “I knew you couldn’t resist the influence of my impeccable fashion sense.”

Once the orange lights of the portal had been established, there was a slightly surreal juncture for Stephen as he realized the room on the other side of the event horizon looked very much like the New York Sanctum except in good condition - like a little look into the past.

A few candles were lit on a table where a woman sat in quiet study over some books as a man paced behind her with a nose deep in his own study, though both glanced up briefly at the portal. The man did little more than raise an eyebrow before turning his gaze back to the book, though the blonde woman lifted a hand to hide a small giggle.

“Doctor! What a _charming_ hat!”   
  
Stephen stepped through the portal with a soft sigh at that, not exactly having expected the London Sanctum to be so busy at this time of evening. _Clearly he was wrong._

“Thank you, Clea,” was about all he could muster as he turned to face Stark. “Please focus on your studies. We just need to take a look at the seal in hopes of getting the New York Sanctum repaired.”

Tony felt a little out of place when he stepped through, he excused himself as he passed by the man reading his book, his tablet already drawn to launch some of the programs he needed to properly survey the integrity of the Sanctum’s seal.  
  
“Yes, of course Doctor Strange!” The girl nodded once, though her gaze trailed past Strange to settle on the brunette behind him with open curiosity. It took a moment before realization dawned on her face, and her eyes dropped promptly back to her book.  
  
“This will only take a moment, then we’ll be out of your hair sweet-cheeks.” Tony winked at Clea before her eyes averted from him. He had to take a moment to draw in his surroundings.   
  
So this was the London Sanctum? _They were in London now…_   
  
Unlike the New York Sanctum there seemed to be a lot less stale energy in the air, the place was almost lit a little brighter and it wasn’t as chilly or rustic looking.   
  
He approached the massive Seal of the Vishanti, holding the tablet up in front of him as a gridded blue laser unfolded from the front of the tablet and began to scan the ornately decorated seal.

The sorcerer glanced towards the affected student as she blushed furiously into her books with a perfectly pleased smile on her face and rolled his eyes a little before trailing after Tony as he set to work. His eyes wandered over the engineer in an examination of his own.

It wasn’t unknown to Stephen the effect Tony Stark had on others - and not just on _women_ he was certain. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Stark had left more than one straight man questioning his sexuality in his day, and rightfully so - he was an attractive man by any number of standards.

Certainly by Stephen’s, anyway.

The holographic grid made about four passes over the window before it was finished and all-in-all it only took about a moment for the scan to render before it generated a vectorized 3D replica of the window in front of him.  
  
He also had a list on screen of the components and materials he would need to reconstruct his own model and the necessary quantity for it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. even had a list compiled of companies as well as menus on ordering and just how much material he would need.

He greenlit the orders from companies with the shortest delivery times and tucked the tablet away.  
  
“Alright, it’s safe to say that the materials are mostly basic and very easy to get ahold of. Glass, steel, nothing that would be hard to come by. I’ve got everything I need.”  
  
The words caused Stephen to start a little, his eyes flicking back to Tony’s face in carefully masked surprise.   
  
“Oh? Already?” That was much faster than he’d expected. Or had he really gotten that caught up in eyeing Tony?   
  
It was possible it was the latter. Possible.

Tony was somewhat fixated on Clea, she was attractive and he couldn’t help but flash his usual charm, he’d be betraying himself if he didn’t. He then glanced over at Stephen and caught his stare and flashed the sorcerer another grin of his own.  
  
“Back to your workshop, then, or…?”  
  
“Materials should be at the compound in few hours, my office would be good so I can upload the scan and have Fri put the new design together. We’ll need that book with the picture of the old seal in it too, so don’t leave that behind.” Tony walked up beside Stephen, eyes turning to Clea and the other man.

At that reminder, a quick portal large enough for his arm and little more opened, and Stephen retrieved the book in question, tucking it under his arm with a nod. “Of course.”   
There was a certain efficiency to the way Tony was handling this. He hadn’t wholly expected that the man would get to work so immediately despite his statement of urgency, and that left Stephen incredibly relieved.

Perhaps he’d even be able to get to work on the runes that further protected the Sanctum by later in the week.  
  
“Well my fair host and hostess, I bid you adieu.” Tony made a comically exaggerated bow, his glasses almost falling off with the gesture. He turned back to Stephen for their _ride back_ .   
  
“Alright, take me home honey.”   
  
London’s Sanctum Master barely acknowledged Tony’s presence as he nudged Clea towards her books again when the woman looked as though she might get up and curtsey in response.   
  
“Have a wonderful evening, Mister Stark! Please take care of the good Doctor for us!” she chimed pleasantly in response, but remained fixed in her seat.   
  
“Clea it’s not-” Her wicked grin silenced Stephen, and he huffed as he turned and opened a portal to Tony’s workshop.

“ _Good night,_ Clea. Master Hall.”

“You know I will!” There was a sort of playful, sinister cackle as Tony followed Stephen through the spinning amber portal, hopping rather boisterously over the ring even though it wasn’t necessary, _the portal was low enough to step through anyways._   
  
The efficiency of having a portal was nice, to get from point A to point B in a negligible amount of time was fantastic considering the distances they traveled.   
  
However what _wasn’t_ fantastic was Tony’s lack of grace as his feet touched down back in his office.   
  
He landed in the puddle on the floor that he’d so carelessly forgotten to mop up. So as two feet touched down, one foot kicked up into the air as it slipped out from underneath him, throwing his weight back and with a gasp he fell backwards, taking a spectacular tumble towards the ground.   
  
_Spectacular in_ **_all_ ** _senses of the word._

The book was spared from the floor by a flurry of red fabric as Stephen dropped it and moved quickly forward, curling his arms firmly around Tony’s chest to keep him from hitting the ground with a soft ‘ _mph._ ’ He should’ve dealt with that puddle before leaving he was sure, but now both of them had fallen prey to it.  
  
Tony's mind couldn’t quite connect what had happened in that moment.   
  
Sure the puddle was unexpected, he’d completely forgotten about it, but having Stephen’s _strong_ arms immediately around his midsection was even more unexpected, _not that it was unwelcome…_   
  
Just _unexpected_ .   
  
“... Come now, you’re not supposed to be falling for me _this_ easily, Stark. I expected more of a challenge.” He teased, unwilling to let the opportunity to make that joke pass by.

Despite his quip, there was a clear sign of concern in the other for a brief moment, particularly as he did nothing to retrieve the glowing hat from the floor where it soon fell. Stephen held the man tightly for moment to give Tony the opportunity to get his footing again.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll clean that up while you do your thing.”

The back of Tony’s head was pressed up firmly against the sorcerer’s chest, he had to blink a few times taking about four solid seconds to fully register that he didn’t smack the back of his head against the floor of his office and in fact, hit fabric and muscle and… _warmth._   
  
Stephen was very warm, and it wasn’t just the body heat that had Tony feeling like his insides were turning to hot butter. Despite their positions where Tony more than felt like a cat that was picked up by its underarms, he had to give it to dumb luck and bless his absent mind for leaving that puddle there in his office.  
  
“Oh I already had, it’s just your world kind of revolves around an age just after the wheel was invented so it took awhile for the input lag to finally catch up.”   
  
_Nailed it._  
  
He reluctantly, but finally made an effort to stand up. His feet slipped a few more times before he gained traction and awkwardly pushed himself up, with Stephen helping to lift him off the floor as well. He steadily patted Stephen’s arms, upright and let out a breathy laugh.   
  
“Thanks bud.”

“ _Just after_ the--?!” Stephen huffed, looking indignant both at those words and the wolf whistle that seemed to come through the still open portal before he allowed it to close in a rush. _Well!_ And he’d started off with so much finesse too!   
  
He could’ve taken that anywhere. But there was a distinct science versus magic debate that was clearly in existence in Tony’s head and if that was the game he wanted to play Stephen was perfectly capable of playing it in return.   
  
The moment Tony had his footing again, Strange shifted himself away and allowed the other man a comfortable amount of personal space as he reached down to retrieve the hat from the floor.   
  
“If your technology is so _beyond_ my _primitive_ skills, where _is_ your teleportation machine, Stark? What need do you have of my _magic_ abilities?”   
  
He fidgeted with the hat for a moment as though checking it over for dust - like a hologram was going to get _dirty_ somehow - before settling it back on his head with his chin up and an air of dignity and confidence about him otherwise. There was a challenge that sparked in his eyes as he fixed them on Tony once again.

“Oh looks like you can dish it, but you can’t take it Strange!” Tony couldn’t help but take a couple steps back as if expecting some sort of physical gesture in backlash to his comment.  
  
It made things even better when Stephen picked the hat off the ground as if the thing had grown on him as part of his wardrobe.   
  
“I mean, there are things even _I_ can’t do yet, but that’s why _I have you._ ” His laughter died down but the genuine smile stayed. He openly admitted, nay, conceded to the fact that even _the great Tony Stark_ didn’t have all the answers, and in this particular instance magic did beat science.   
  
Likewise Stark had to pick up his tablet off the ground, thankfully it wasn’t damaged. He gave a sharp whistle out the door.   
  
“Hey Dum-E, come in here and make yourself useful.” He harped, his only response that the message was received was the sound of clattering of buckets and cleaning supplies on the floor from outside of his office.   
  
“Lord…”  
  
As Tony’s laughed settled into that _smile_ Stephen found himself mirroring it without even thinking about it.

There was something heartfelt about it, a depth that made his chest tighten a little bit before he shook his head and retrieved the book from the Cloak of Levitation.   
  
He didn’t need to focus on Tony’s smile, or the way it had affected his heartbeat. He needed to focus on the window being fixed, the runes being repainted, and the Sanctum getting back in order. The rest could be processed at a more opportune time.

_Alone_ . With a mirror to berate himself in.   
  
“I will do whatever I can to make up for the areas in which you lack.” He shrugged as he fingered his way through the pages to carefully locate the appropriate diagram again. “And I suppose that means allowing _you_ to do the same for me. Technology, engineering, architecture, _robotics_ ... none of those things are at all my field of expertise. So I’ll leave _those_ matters to the expert.”   
  
Once the page was found, Stephen made his way towards Tony’s desk to set the book down beside him.

“Here you are. I recommend not going through the book too much as the information is rather _dense_ , but if you choose to, it does have a little bit of the history of the New York Sanctum, including what little is known about how it came to be built. It’s interesting enough.”

Tony nodded and took a seat at his workstation and sifted through the holographic projections on screen. He’d pulled up the 3D render of the London Sanctum, an extensive list of directions and materials and the structural integrity, starting to assign materials and units to the structure for the 3D printer to read.   
  
He uploaded the diagram of the New York Sanctum seal, super-imposing it from the two-dimensional diagram onto the 3D window vector. He then selected all the known components of the London seal, omitted them, before uploading the projection of the 2D graphic and embossing it to fit within the curvature of the Sanctum’s ellipsis.

In the time Tony worked, Stephen watched with a certain degree of interest. It was easy to fall behind the man’s work between how quickly he moved from task to task and his own unfamiliarity with the process, but when he finally lost track entirely of the man’s actions his attentions settled comfortably on Stark himself once again.  
  
Stephen had never had the opportunity to simply watch the man work before and it was fascinating. For as much as Tony’s energy was all over the place normally, it seemed to focus in when he worked and the mystic wondered how much of his surroundings he was aware of during the process.   
  
The monitors and lights in the room kept the man mostly out of shadow, and yet still highlighted his face beautifully _(what a dangerous word to think_ ) as he concentrated. He wondered how aware the man was of the way his teeth caught his lip while he worked, or how the light caught his tongue as it poked between his lips, or when he leaned in to look at something.   
  
_It was cute._   
  
Tony Stark was _cute_ while he worked.   
  
A newer 3D vector was generated, a final complete render of the would-be Sanctum’s Seal of the Vishanti as Tony rolled his chair back, looking at Stephen for feedback on the design.   
  
The entire process took barely 20 minutes given the inventory of technology at Stark’s disposal.   
  
“So, how does this look to you? You’ve got the idea here, I’m just your hands in creating it. I tried to keep it as close to home as I could. The design and materials are all there, it just needs to be finalized.”  
  
“Looks good.” Stephen stated quickly fixing his eyes on the screen as the wheels rolled. “It looks _very_ good. I’m impressed.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, he looked up at Stephen with a determined smirk.  
  
“I’ll set the printers to calibrate, then all we need to do is wait for the materials. As soon as those come in, in say…” Tony checked his watch. “A couple of hours, then we just need to play the waiting game.”   
  
Tony was rather proud of his accomplishments. At some point it wasn’t just about showing Stephen that he was capable, but proving to Stephen that he would be _reliable_ if he ever needed help in the future - and that he shouldn’t have reservations _asking for it._   
  
He looked up at the man leaning on the back of his chair, staring up at his hair that seemed to dangle over his brow. An interesting perspective for sure, but a nice one regardless.

He had to stop himself from staring, averting back to the computer screen as he initialized the printers startup process. He tried not to think about their previous encounter, and _Stephen’s strong arms around him, it was far too distracting._   
  
“I can get to work on the glass panes however, those just need to be cut from sheet glass and fitted with flux into a setting; we’re really just waiting on the parts for the seal’s design itself.” Tony initialized the process, a whirr of machinery sprang to life in an instant with an idle bar popping up on his screen to show the process.

“A couple hours?” Stephen watched the screens for a moment more before looking down at the seated man with a small smile. “Alright. I suppose I should leave you to your work.” To his focus. And making his _stupid cute faces_ all on his own.   
  
There were things he could probably attend to at the Sanctum, and a couple of hours was a lot of time to be idle. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t collect a couple of books up for studying while Tony did whatever he did, but there was no logical reason he could come to that indicated he ought to stay.   
  
Just an increasingly _potent_ desire to watch Stark chew on his lip in concentration, apparently.   
  
The cloak clipped itself around his shoulders again finally, and he reached a hand to brush lightly at the collar as it settled into place, reminded of his own indication that he intended to leave.

“Unless you needed me for something else during this process?”

"Nah, I think I got it from here doc. The rest is all up to the machines.”

In all honesty Tony did want Stephen to stay; the company was nice in the workshop, he never really had anyone to talk to and even the banter was nice over nothing.  
  
Stephen had his own things to take care of though, and he could only imagine the set back the other was facing having to fret about the state of the Sanctum.   
  
“Oh wait hold on one sec.”

Tony stood up, plodding over to Stephen and then _straightened out his hat_ before stepping back and lifting a hand to bid him off. “If all goes well I should have the seal to you by noon tomorrow.”

“Do try and bring an external power source for any-” he started, before pausing and letting his eyes drop to Tony’s chest for a brief moment. He had his own power source. But presumably not to plug things into - though the image of plugging a phone into the Iron Man suit to let it charge was one that brought a definitive smirk to his lips.

“Oh, that’s what the arc reactor is for, it’s why I’ve always _got so much energy.”_

“Well anyway, the Sanctum is finicky about power as I mentioned, so do keep that in mind for anything you may need.” Lifting the hat from his head to press it to his chest, bowing with a courteous nod, Stephen returned the hat on his head and opened himself a portal home.

“Good day, Mister Stark.”  
  
He teased, watching as Stephen wove himself another portal as he did many times before and took the hat off in a gracious bow.   
  
“Alright, see ya tomorrow darling. I’ll have you one Seal of Vishanti by noon!” He blew Stephen a mock kiss just before the portal closed, one last bit to antagonize the uptight sorcerer.   
  
_Tony always had to get the last laugh._


	3. Painting Runes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen install the new window and paint protective wards within the Sanctum. It's messy business.

It had taken Stephen hours when he returned the day before to get the Sanctum back into a state that was at least mildly manageable; today, with the sun shining brightly through the gap in the ceiling, the effort had proven worth it.

The foyer both smelled and looked considerably less wet, and he’d managed to clean it up enough that the master of the Sanctum was at least _reasonably_ certain that no one was going to be touching anything they shouldn’t.

There was never a _guarantee_ though.   
  
A series of large sheets had been strewn about the floor, lining the entire outside edge of the sprawling room, some already showing signs of precisely why they’d been there as spots of paint seemed to glow faintly speckled across the sheet.   
  
A tall ladder was the perch Stephen took, sitting with delicate enough balance on the top of it as he carefully attempted to paint in the runes around the perimeter of the foyer, clad in his training robes.   
  
His arms were bare and already marked here and there with touches of paint; it was clear enough why the man had chosen to forego his full robes. His hands still trembled under the effort of painting something with such fine, delicate precision and it had certainly left its marks.   
  
The Cloak of Levitation hovered anxiously well outside of the reach of his paints, ready and willing to catch him at a moments notice - and had proven so already - but for the most part, he was secure in his seat. He could be clumsy, sure, but at least when it came to the idea of him falling he was fairly relaxed.   
  
He’d do trust falls with the cloak to catch him and trust in the cloak _every_ time.

Meanwhile, Tony had spent the night with his machines cutting glass, fitting said glass into welded iron rutts, fluxing them in place and then finally christening it with the New York Sanctum’s trademark Seal of the Vishanti. The seal, aside from it’s old aged look, was practically identical to its former copy. As the plan went, all its parts were printed individually using the steel and then fitted just like the glass, and then welded into place.  
  
As promised the day before, just after noon, a massive armored moving truck pulled up to the front of the Sanctum's step labelled with you-know-who’s company name. It parked across the street, finding a safe place to idle before Tony dropped down in his Iron Man suit to greet Stephen.   
  
It may have been a bad idea to sneak up on Stephen, preferably for his sake, even use the front door to say hello. But Tony, ever the vivacious one, decided to poke his head through the tarp and surprise Stephen. The experience would be akin to one intensely focusing on a task, and then having a gold and red helmet with glowing blue eyes suddenly pop up out of nowhere in a startle.   
  
“Heya doc!” Tony piped up, clad in his Iron Man suit, he brushed the tarp out of the way stepping inside from the open window to spy on what Stephen was doing.

_“Stark!”_   
  
The greeting was less a _greeting_ and more of a surprised squawk, followed by an entirely undignified _‘uwah’_ from the startled sorcerer as his core engaged promptly to try and compensate for the way he’d almost immediately tried to fling himself back - away from the sudden shiny metal helmet in his view.  
  
Core muscles alone weren’t going to do it though - not given everything else required to correct his balance. The paint brush dropped completely, splashing a streak of paint across the magus’ thigh on its way down as the doctor’s hands flew out to try and balance himself. Stephen’s legs tried to quickly untangle themselves from lotus position with an ankle getting itself caught long enough to keep him from full recovery, but mercifully not managing to dislodge the dangerously wobbling tray of paint that sat there.  
  
He knew there was enough clearance between his perch on the ladder and the floor for the cloak to reach him. He _knew_! This wasn’t the first time he’d fallen today! But that didn’t stop the man’s eyes from widening as the world started to slow down with his realization and the adrenaline that started to flood his body.   
  
Stephen was _falling._  
  
And his hand reached out to Tony before he’d even thought about it.

“Ooh-whoa there!” Tony’s arm immediately flew out. He caught Stephen’s forearm, curling around and gripping it in a vice. He pulled the doctor back up onto the window ledge with him, arm placed protectively around his waist while his other arm held onto the foundation of the building.  
  
Either Stark had anticipated scaring the poor mage off of his perch or he just had incredibly good reflexes. Or there was the possibility of the suit having some sort of reactive programming. It didn’t matter, Stephen was safe and Tony’s eyes went past the sorcerer as he watched the paintbrush fall and clatter on the floor below.   
  
_Oops..._

Bracing himself against the armour for a moment, Stephen closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath as the cloak once again settled on his shoulders to fuss at him. He allowed himself a moment to relax against the other before he spoke.  
  
“I’ve got’ya.” Tony steadied Stephen, still holding his lithe form taut.

“Do I get to crack a falling innuendo for that one now?” Tony grinned, that puckish smile had become a constant as of late, at least in relations dealing to Stephen.  
  
“Asking that question meant missing your opportunity. Timing is everything.” Shrugging Stephen opened his eyes again to look _up_ at the helmet.   
  
“I should at least get a kiss for saving the damsel in distress.”

_Oh_ . Funny how many extra inches Tony’s suit had. He had to take a moment to wonder how many of those extra inches were _necessary,_ and how many were an _aesthetic choice_ on the other’s behalf, but he couldn’t exactly argue with the fact that the anything-but-knightly hero had caught him.   
  
He took the opportunity to consider Tony’s statement. The man _was_ covered in armour - it wasn’t as though planting a kiss along the cool metal jaw would have meant anything at all - nothing intimate, anyway. _It would make a statement though, wouldn’t it?_

Stephen simply wasn’t certain it was the _kind_ of statement he wanted to make.   
  
“You _do_ seem to have the big strong man in a suit of armor thing going on, I’ll grant you that,” Stephen acquiesced. “But, I’m not going to _reward_ you for fixing a problem that you _caused_ Stark. So you’ll have to earn a kiss some _other_ way.”

“Timing? Well I caught you just in _time_ didn’t I?” The nanobots of Tony’s golden face-plate began to dissolve, leaving him until his head and neck were exposed. “What if my life is already a mess, and I’m just another cause?” He winked. “Does that still count against me?” 

“If you hadn’t caught me in time, the cloak would have,” Stephen responded as he watched the nanobots recede with brief interest, “But I _do_ appreciate you catching me. Freefall isn’t my favourite thing.”

His arm loosened involuntarily around Stephen’s waist and he nodded his head towards the massive truck parked on the street.  
  
“Well, you let me know when we can get this baby installed. I’m not sure how much you have left to do but I should be able to idle over there for a bit before the parking authorities come and harass me… Is there anything here you have left to do that I can be of assistance with? You know, _other than sweeping you entirely off your feet_ .” He purred playfully.

Tony finally withdrew his arm, making sure Stephen had his bearings before leaning against the side of the building to strike comical pose, leaning on his elbow. He didn’t lack tact when flirting, no, he was just dialing it up to 100% because that's just how the eccentric engineer was.

A smirk flickered its way across Stephen’s lips briefly, before he followed Tony’s gesture towards the truck with a nod.

“Ah, I see. I must have lost track of time myself. I can take a break on painting until you’re finished installing the window. Unless you wanted to help me paint.” Stephen chuckled a little, looking at the wet paint on his thumb still, before raising it to swipe a light line of it across the red chestplate playfully. Turnabout's fair play after all, and there was definitely paint on his thigh that Tony was at fault for.   
  
“The cloak will deal with the placement of my feet just fine.” As though to prove that, Stephen slipped himself back through the window, allowing the cloak to lower him to the floor inside as he began to collect up some of the painting supplies.

Tony righted himself and looked down at the paint now coating his chest plate, his brows furrowed in a mock frown as he leaned in through the window setting, his gaze following Strange as he retreated into the Sanctum.  
  
“HEY! This better wash off!” Tony yelled down into the foyer.

“It’ll come off of metal just fine, Stark,” Stephen chuckled to himself as he set the paint brush near the paints at the foot of the ladder, shooing the cloak now that he was on the floor and dealing with pigments.

Tony stepped inside and kicked on his repulsors as he followed Stephen’s descent, landing gracefully beside him on the ornately tiled floor. He noticed that this time around, aside from the paint splattered on the floor from the paintbrush Stephen had dropped, the place was a lot more lively looking.

It helped that the sky wasn’t overcast, and there weren’t buckets and water strewn about.  
  
“I can get the window installed and then help you out with whatever paint job you need done. Does the painting need to happen before the seal is installed or can we paint afterwards?” Tony looked down, scratching at the streak on his chest to test it’s integrity. It started to fleck off lightly on his chrome-red armor; he let it be.   
  
“The painting can be done at any point as long as the rain isn’t going to wash it away while it’s still wet. The Seal of the Vishanti is the priority - once the seal is in place, the barrier around the Earth is fully completed. The runes don’t protect the Earth, just the Sanctum, and thus the seal.”   
  
Whether they would protect from Asgardian transportation beams or the full force of the Hulk crashing into it again had yet to be determined, but that could wait for a better testing period when he would have time to try a variety of runic combinations to determine what was most effective against whom.   
  
“But if you want to help me paint after, I wouldn’t be wholly opposed to the help. Doing this myself will take _days._ ”

“Alright. If you could get rid of that tarp covering the hole, this won’t take more than a few moments to install.” Tony headed out the front door of the Sanctum, making sure the truck was in position, he spoke up to instruct his A.I. to engage the process.

The tarp disappeared with a wave of the sorcerer’s hand, and Stephen took a few steps after the engineer to watch with a certain degree of fascination; out of the way but well within view of the window.  
  
“Alright Fri, lets get this window installed.”

On command a miniature legion of robots dispatched from the side of the truck, two of them heading towards the sidewalk to halt any pedestrians walking by and two more with traffic lights to stop motor vehicles from passing underneath.  
  
A necessary safety precaution.   
  
When Stark had indicated he might have some ‘help’ Stephen had assumed he’d meant other human workers - like a fool, clearly. Of course Tony Stark would bring an army of _robots_ to repair a _magical_ seal in a living house.

Why _wouldn’t_ he?

It was efficient. Flashy. An absolutely beautiful display of skill, organization, ingenuity - oh, and of course the man’s own brilliance.  
  
“Traffic is stopped and the sidewalk is clear, bring out the seal.” Tony instructed, the top of the truck opened slowly and he went to join his miniature team of bots that were now lifting the massive circular seal through the opening in the roof of the truck. Each robot had a grappling arm on a ring of steel that suctioned to the glass of the window, carrying it slowly up towards the setting.   
  
Once the window cleared the road, the traffic was allowed to pass through. The angle was carefully calculated as the massive window was suspended by miniature repulsors idling in their positions.

The two miniature robots that had left their spaces from guarding the traffic slid in front of the window. They circled one another, speeding up like a rotating disc in the setting for the window. A bright laser hit the setting and shaved away any loose pieces of the old window and heated the metal until it was red hot. With the fixture heated the rest of the robots moved forward, registering the window so it was perfectly aligned before Tony gave the all clear.

The window was slowly guided into the old setting and the two bots that had previously heated the setting, once again spun around the exterior of the metal to weld the massive seal in place. The seal was sprayed with an anti-rust solution and then finally caulking to keep the water from getting in.

This process was applied to both sides of the seal before the robots withdrew to their respective compartments in the truck.  
  
“Alright, good job team, that’s a wrap!” With the all clear the truck’s engine fired up and it departed, heading back to the compound.   
  
Stark landed in front of the Sanctum, strutting up to Stephen with a wink.   
  
Once again Stephen had underestimated the other man’s speed with tasks like this. He’d assumed there would be prolonged welding, screws and bolts, and unfamiliar tools… The idea that the entire process would only take a few minutes had never crossed his mind. Not _once._   
  
_Maybe he should ask Tony to deal with the stairs, too._   
  
The thought crossed the magus’ mind very briefly, before dismissing it. There was no reason for the stairs. The stairs would heal themselves and were only a threat to a half-asleep Stephen trying to get to the front door for an emergency call. Most of the time he just let the cloak drag him to the door anyway.   
  
But the aid in painting would definitely clear up his own schedule with speed. Stark certainly knew how to work delicately with his hands. Perhaps not with a surgeon’s precision, but it wasn’t as though _Stephen_ was working with that kind of accuracy these days either. How much more quickly would the engineer power through what was essentially a massive, protective paint-by-number than he could?

Tony’s work was excellent and he could already feel the way the house was beginning to mould itself properly around the glass, feeding magic slowly and steadily into the seal. He felt the rush of it hit him like a wave once it was completed, and he smiled in answer to it, his third eye opened to watch the energy swirl and shield the Sanctum.

“How’d you like my sweet moves? Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

“You’re an unabashed show-off aren’t you?” The doctor hummed in response, carefully weighing the amount of praise to give Stark. Too much and it was going to become intolerable to deal with the man after ( _he could imagine_ ) and too little would be terribly ungrateful of him - _and unkind._   
  
Stephen felt and sensed rather than saw the energy that shot through the centre of the house and into the skies far above the New York as his eyes turned to fix on Tony once again.   
  
“You did very well. The Sanctum Sanctorum seems to approve and the shield is in place. Congratulations, Stark, you’ve aided in creating a magic barrier today.”

And there was nothing teasing in his tone.

Stephen meant it.

"Thank you."

“I could promise you nothing less than an absolute spectacle.” The playful side of him wondered if Stephen was just too proud to ask for help so he made up this entire story about seals and magic just to get his old house fixed. Which honestly, _would have been pretty cute were it the truth._   
  
But he knew too well that Stephen was a highly focused individual and much too business-oriented to make up some silly feeble excuse like that. Fixing the seal would be one less worry on his own watch when mystical threats weren’t upon them.   
  
One might argue that up until that point, there hadn’t been any mystical threats, but then the other side of the argument would be that those threats hadn’t manifested simply because the seal was intact and warding said threats off.   
  
Plus Tony _enjoyed_ being the one Stephen could lean on for help. He didn’t do it to stroke his own ego, but because he just wanted to be there for him. Stephen was more than just another member of the team, _much more._   
  
“Alright so explain to me what the painting is for if it has nothing to do with how the seal’s function.”

The sorcerer raised a hand and gestured for the armoured man to follow him, allowing the cloak to settle in on his shoulders once more and raise him to the top of the ladder. Tony in turn followed, hesitant steps as he gated across the floor, eyes focused on the Stephen as he mentored.  
  
“Come take a look.”   
  
The rune wasn’t fully filled in, but interspersed beneath the crown moulding of the room to Stephen’s right. It sat in a line among others which faintly shone, vibrantly in a chromatic aray. The mystic nodded his head in the general direction as he took up his perch on the ladder again, with the cloak keeping him steady.   
  
“I’ve already penciled in the outlines of each of the runes. They ward the Sanctum both inside and out from various dangers. Some are specifically designated to protect the structure of the building from damage - like children throwing rocks at windows; others around the perimeter of the seal will be meant for protecting the seal _itself_ from damage.” Stephen paused, gesturing to the sequence of runes.   
  
“While I don’t anticipate Doctor Banner making another explosive entrance through the window… our lives are just too exciting to assume _nothing_ will ever try to. So I’m protecting the Sanctum - and the seal - from everything I can possibly think of.”   
  
Stephen was certain there was a long list of things he _hadn’t_ thought of, but some of these runes were new enough to him anyway. There was still a limit to his knowledge. It was a constant process of learning.   
  
_And he loved it._

Tony followed Stephen as he showed him the many different painted runes of the Sanctum, eyes immediately noticing how they shone so brightly under the dim light of the interior.  
  
“huh, It’s like your own personal property damage mitigation, I get ya...” He trailed off as he scanned through the many different types of runes. It was almost like a program in a sense, each rune representing a new line of coding for dealing with specific threats, and the entirety representing a program in its own.   
  
There seemed to be a trend in how magic and science tended to work, juxtaposing one another and Tony could see the similarities - yet differences in their practices, vividly. Though he did have to admit, if all it took was a simple rune drawing to execute the function of what equated to thousands of lines of coding. Magic in fact did have the upper hand in this situation.   
  
But was it really that simple?   
  
“That’s actually pretty cool...” He trailed off. “But I am useless when it comes to even trying to do hat tricks, will the runes I end up painting even work?” He wondered, there had to be something more to it than just painting a shape on the wall, or else anyone could do it at that point.

Stephen looked to the Iron Man with a small smile as he reached to tap the still lightly glowing line along the metal chest piece, the glow itself more obvious now that they were indoors.

“The magic is in the paint. As long as the runes are filled in the way they’re supposed to be, they will work just fine. That said, they require a certain precision.”  
  
Lifting up a hand, a faint tremor in the scarred extremity was made clear as Stephen’s attentions settled on it rather than Tony.

“I can get by to a degree, but it takes time to do it right. It’s no more challenging than a colouring book with only one colour. If it’s done right, the paint will change in colour - sometimes only slightly, other times quite dramatically.” The sorcerer paused for a moment, before pointing with a certain excitement in his tone as though he was sharing a new toy with someone. Really, it was just a new discovery - a new puzzle to figure out that had him sounding so eager.   
  
“There’s a purple one over there. I’m still trying to determine why it’s _purple_ , but I’m sure I’ll work it out in time. It’s a learning process as much as anything else.”

“I might be getting too deep into this but is there a specific colour designated to a type of spell category? Do you know what these colours mean?” Tony looked down at his chest and tapped at the fluorescent paint. He let out a soft snort of amusement, his chest doing a couple flip flops as he settled a hand over the illuminated streak.

“It’s less about categories and more about the source of the magic.” Stephen smiled, clearly pleased by Tony’s question as he looked to the other man again.

His armour began to retract, dissolving into his glowing arc reactor which seemed to shine just as brightly as the runes in the dim light of the Sanctum. The fixtures didn’t seem to give off much in terms of light and neither did the rays of sun which filtered in through the newly installed window up above.  
  
It was incredibly calming, and nothing felt more inviting at this very moment.   
  
“Many of these runes invoke other dimensions for their strength, and each of those dimensions tend to have a distinct energy. You’ve seen some of this in use already; magic with more universally bound sources, such as the portals you’ve seen, will lean towards a colour from _this_ dimension. That distinct amber colour you may be familiar with…”   
  
Tony stripped off his wind-breaker until he was just in his tank-top and pants, not intending to stain his jacket with glimmering paint. Despite the time of the year there was still a welcoming warmth to the Sanctum, especially now that the gaping wound in the Sanctum’s exterior had been healed.

Despite Stephen’s excitement in explaining things, there was a brief moment where his eyes flicked down from Tony’s face to look over the other’s _tank-top clad_ torso. Because _that_ wasn’t distracting as all hell.

Averting his eyes to the wall, Stephen did his best to refocus on what he had been talking about before. What was it…? _Oh, right._   
  
“But you’ve seen much more than that, as well. Some of these runes are meant to simply conceal certain things about the Sanctum from prying eyes.” Stephen’s hand gestured towards a rune that seemed to refract light back in a variety of colours. “This one invokes the mirror dimension. It has no distinct colour, only this reflective quality. Cyttorak’s dimension has a distinctly red tone to it.” His hand moved to gesture to the vibrantly crimson rune to the left of the shimmering one. “This particular rune is a binding rune; it keeps certain creatures _inside_ the Sanctum.”   
  
And the colours around the room were vast. There was clear indication that some of the colours repeated - Cyttorak’s crimson could be spotted intermittently in the short line of already completed runes, partially due to Stephen’s own familiarity with the dimension.

“I’m starting to follow, and so since you mentioned that the Sanctum has a nexus of ley lines converging beneath it, it’s much easier to draw upon the energy and network to those different dimensions from the Sanctum alone?” Tony had to admit it was more than just a little interesting as he followed along with Stephen’s explanation of the different schools of runes and the dimensions in which each represented - the power it drew off of.  
  
As Stephen talked about it, he couldn’t help but think that all of this sounded like he was talking about some sort of game or novel series, something fantastical and out of this world. But he reminded himself that this was all _very real,_ and these runes and all the work Strange did had a very important role to play in offering protection in their reality.   
  
With all the antagonizing, he sometimes wondered if he didn’t give the doctor the credit he was due, the silent protector, always there and present behind the scenes while heroes like the Avengers took the spotlight.   
  
“Alright, I’m ready to help out with your magical arts and crafts project, just let me know where you want me to start.” Tony procured a paint brush from a stock of them, wondering if the paint brush also had its own mystical properties or influence…Or if it was in fact just _a normal paint brush._

“I’m actually really good with my hands doc, just _you_ wait and see.” Another double edged innuendo, there was no shortage of those in Tony’s vernacular arsenal, especially now when it came to Stephen.

Stephen’s eyes snapped in Tony’s direction as a smirk settled on his lips. “I was counting on it, Stark. You haven’t disappointed me so far - don’t start _now_.”

A wave of a hand cast a small aqua coloured butterfly flittering towards a set of runes, which briefly lit up.   
  
“If you want to start there and work that way, I’ll continue in this direction?” Stephen suggested, his smirk softening into a smile as he fell quiet, considering Tony’s inquiry and trying to figure out the best way to explain things to his more scientifically-minded companion.   
  
“Because the Sanctum also has doors that lead to other dimensions, it can draw on them with more ease due to the convergence. To be perfectly honest, the gateways and ley lines thing is a bit chicken and egg - it’s hard to say which came first.”  He clarified slowly as he picked up his paint brush again and allowed the cloak to remain with him as he started to paint again.   
  
“ _However_ the magic in the paint is tied directly to my personal magic. Each of these runes connects to my own understanding of magic in order to work. While they draw nothing from me while they exist, they strengthen as my knowledge increases, and they will disappear when I die, leaving it to the Sanctum’s next master to either reactivate each rune themselves or paint new ones.”   
  
Trembling hands worked on slow strokes with focus and purpose, and a small degree of pride as he explained elements of his craft to the other man. He knew how it felt to be a skeptic - but Tony didn’t seem skeptical. He seemed receptive. Listening, asking questions, inquisitive.

It was refreshing.

Stephen always knew just how much praise to give Stark and when to do it. It was like he was dangling a fresh morsel on a string in front of a hungry animal and every so often said string would dip down _just low enough_ and he’d get just a little taste of the ultimate end goal suspended out of reach.   
  
Tony enjoyed the explanation, enjoyed hearing the magus speak, his low voice rumbling in his throat with confidence and certainty about his craft. The soft gravelly tone was pleasant and Tony wasn’t going to deny that half the time he argued with Stephen just so he could hear him talk.

He thought about how nice it would be to lay down and rest, fall asleep to that husky voice, and then to once again wake up to it, _low and soothing._   
  
Tony’s face flushed a bit, and he thanked the darkness of the Sanctum that veiled him.   
  
“You know this magical mumbo-jumbo is all starting to make a little more sense to me.” He smirked as he watched Stephen lift himself up to the runes he was previously tending to - _before Tony had arrived and scared him off of his task._   
  
He had to suppress a light chuckle in memoir of that little episode. 

“Well, once it makes _enough_ sense to you, perhaps I can convince you to talk to Peter about how I am _not in fact a wizard_ ...” He’d told himself yesterday that it would be best not to talk about it with Tony, and yet here he was anyway. He didn’t know when he might get a better chance.   
  
“It’s like suggesting that you build your suits out of lego. Inaccurate _and_ infantilizing.”

“We’ll have to take a rain-check on that one doc...” Tony walked over and grabbed the ladder Stephen had previously been using, deciding that his suit would be clumsy and unwieldy to use for something like this.   
  
He was going to do this the old fashion way.   
  
He tucked a paintbrush behind his ear, procured a ladder and set it up just under a set of runes. Grabbing one of the small canisters of paint he then began to climb, one hand on the metal holds, another on the small canister. He perched himself on the very top of the ladder, there was no fear of heights for a man who literally flew around in a mechanical suit as he swung his legs over the side of the A-frame and began to lean in and start tracing the runes.   
  
“Man, can’t imagine how painstaking this is with your grip, it’s probably like trying to draw during an earthquake.” He teased from across the room.

“Why do you figure it took me so long to get _this_ much work done?” The sorcerer inquired, though he paused long enough to watch his hands jitter with a miserable smile. Sweet sacrifices. Shaking hands, or glowing paint?

The moment the in-progress rune _was_ finally complete, Stephen’s eyes sparked in a brief array of colours as the rune established its connection with a dimension that showed a pointedly pale-pink lean as it lit up, and Stephen sighed softly, allowing the cloak to tow him over to the next outline.   
  
_Could_ he give up magic at this point, even if he wanted to? For his hands?   
  
_Doubtful._ He was about as addicted to the wondrous eccentricities of the Sanctum as he was to helping those who came seeking reprieve from their ghosts and ghouls, and creatures that went bump in the night.   
  
_Stephen enjoyed aiding others._ And the number of people who were capable of doing what he did with magic were far fewer than those who could perform neurosurgery, even at his level. He could accept that.

“Because you can’t seem to keep your balance? I only imagine how many times you’ve fallen off that ladder when I wasn’t around to see that.” Tony snorted, squinting his eyes at the rune.

“I…” Stephen started, before trailing off with a sigh. “... I mean, you’ve got me there. I fell twice already before you decided to make the third time charming.” _And the rest of the task so much easier…_ “But my balance is just fine, I assure you.” 

The inventor’s focus remained on keeping his brush strokes soundly within the lines and he was making quick work of the task, able to fill in the shapes in a third of the time it took Stephen to. Perhaps it was from his experience working with his hands, needing to steady and operate on intricate details of machinery. Another attributing factor was unlike Stephen, his hands weren’t an absolutely _hot shaking mess._   
  
Tony was doing that thing again where when he was concentrated hard on something he started chewing on his tongue, the tip of it sticking out of his mouth like some silly animal.   
  
“As for the kid - I’m sure he means well. You are some fantastical, mythical deity to him, seriously - Pete really looks up to you.” Tony adjusted his glasses, leaning back a bit as he finished tracing the signature on the wall.

Thoughts of Peter brought him to a pause though, his smile widening as delight played on his features. _Mythical deity_... him?

“Has Peter not met Thor, yet? What a shame. I can imagine how disappointed he must be. His hero adopted him like some cool _dad_ , and his idea of a fantastical deity is a man who is _by any definition_ _strange_.”

He’d done expert work keeping the paint very crisp within the linework and it was only a moment before he was rewarded by a soft iridescent cyan glow the rune began to exude.  
  
“Actually speaking of the kid... I need to pick him up later to go over some contract stuff, you know dumb superhero politics… But I also want to stick around and help you out with the rest of this - it would cut my time in half if you helped me pick him up later.” Tony looked over to Strange for an answer.

Glancing towards the other man, Stephen offered an easy smile. “I suppose I could pick him up. He’s still in classes until at least 4 PM isn’t he?”

The sorcerer progressed more slowly along the new rune, folding his legs up once again for comfort as he leaned in to his work, as though that would make things more steady. He felt the light energy of a rune coming into existence and cast his gaze towards Tony, before smiling a bit as he saw the glow.

“Yeah, four o’clock is when he usually gets out, unless he’s somehow gotten himself stuck in detention... _again._ ” Tony had to roll his eyes, that boy was in and out of curricular punishment like it was a revolving door. 

“Uhuh-” There was an air of disbelief in Tony’s response as he leaned over the edge of the ladder more to reach the tip of the next rune. ”And I’m glad you said yes, because you obviously can’t say no either way.” He teased, dipping his paintbrush back into the small canister he had on the tray of the ladder.  
  
“-In which case, just sneak him out. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten him to ditch.” Another rune finished in the midst of yammering. Tony’s attention was drawn to the soft glow of yet another completed symbol. He took delight in watching them light up as if a series of puzzled switches had been perfectly worked out.   
  
_Man, that would never get old._   
  
Tony began to climb down the ladder, needing to move it over and reposition it in order to reach the next rune.

There was a long pause as Stephen stared at Tony for a while, in disbelief. “... I am _not_ going to bust Peter out of detention for a _superhero meeting_ . Unless there’s some imminent threat I’ve managed to entirely overlook, he still has a _civilian life_ to account for. I can pick him up _after_ his detention.”   
  
The undercurrent of his words was clear enough to be written on his face. _Let Peter be a child while he’s still a child…_

Tony practically threw his head back as Stephen began lecturing him about Peter’s personal life. He had on one hand a child that wanted to grow up too quickly, and then on the other hand a _manchild who hadn’t grown up quickly enough_ .   
  
And Stephen unfortunately had to take care of the both of them now.   
  
Soon enough, the expression disappeared behind a cool, collected mask again as the sorcerer resumed his painting. His chest felt weird - tight, and almost electrified. Peter wanted _so much_ to be an adult, and a hero, and to prove himself… He wanted to grow up too quickly. And he was still _too naïve_ .   
  
_Naïve_ stuck in his head prominently, as he recalled both Mordo and Wong having suggested on separate occasions that Stephen himself was still naïve. The word had stuck with him. Moreso since both men were people he respected the opinions of - and both men had the _same_ opinion of _him_ in that matter.   
  
So maybe he was being naïve in this too. The more Peter practiced, learned from his mentors, and improved his understanding, the safer he would be overall, right? In that way, wasn’t it _better_ that he got all the hero-training he could?   
  
_Shit._ He was feeling overprotective of Peter Parker.   
  
“Don’t be such a drip, we’d be doing him a favor if anything.” Tony started to climb back up the ladder, he had the brush in his mouth this time, cannister in his hand and had somehow managed to smear paint over the bridge of his nose.   
  
Careful and articulate he was with the runes - tactful and sorted when it came to handling potentially messy supplies and instruments , _not so much…_   
  
Tony scrunched his nose, leaning over to get to work on the next rune and making efficient strokes as the design for this one wasn’t as complex, completely unaware of the paint on his face.   
  
“Oh yeah, and you’re not allowed to pick him up before first putting your hat back on.” Tony quickly added.

“Wearing the hat was _not_ part of our agreement. You set your terms. My showing up to pick him up in the first place is going to cause questions - I don’t think I need to _announce_ that I’m a magician to a school full of teenagers.”   
  
But Stephen _had_ agreed to provide portal services to Stark, and delaying in doing so was a terrible precedent to set, so he sighed heavily to himself and glanced to his wrist in brief habit. For all the good that did; he wasn’t wearing a watch.

Tony might even get that wall finished today, despite having to descend the ladder, move it, and climb back up again. And how much more would he manage to accomplish while Stephen stepped away to pick up Peter? Especially if he offered the cloak’s aid.  
  
Stephen would probably want to at least change his attire briefly. Maybe just portal to around a corner. Peter, unlike Stephen and Tony, _made efforts_ to conceal his identity… it was only right to try and respect that. As much as he could.

“Relax, I’ll come with you, I’m obviously not going to stay here alone in this creepy haunted house of yours. Plus it would be weird if some stranger - no pun intended -  showed up at the school, he’s not expecting you.” Tony carefully traced his paintbrush over another rune, dabbing it into the canister like he had before with all the others.

He had gotten a third of the way into it before he glanced down at his own watch (one he actually had around his wrist) and cursed.  
  
“Shit. We have five minutes, I completely lost track of time.” Tony put the canister down on the ladder and started to climb back down. He tossed the brush into an idle jar of water and picked up his wind-breaker.   
  
“We should probably-maybe get going, like _right now_ \- or the kid’s going to be wondering where I am.” Tony looked up at Strange, the streak of paint on his face still a mystery to him. 

“Oh, I thought you’d want to get acquainted. Are you afraid of my _house_ Stark?” Stephen chuckled a little as the cloak lowered him to the floor, and he carefully covered up some of the painting supplies.   
  
“Five minutes is lots of time. Relax _yourself_ ,” he added with a soft sigh before waving a hand to briefly disguise his attire as a much more simply t-shirt and slacks, allowing the cloak to settle as a long red jacket with a light checkered pattern on the lapel over his shoulders. Perfect autumn-wear. Much less conspicuous for public.   
  
“Don’t forget your hat, it’s very important.”

Stephen’s gaze settled sternly on Tony, at his insistence, before he rolled his eyes.  
  
“There is _no way_ I’m wearing that hat to Peter’s school!"


	4. Stephen Wore The Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen wears the hat... Out in public. Tony and Peter tease him non-stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless Foxglove_Fiction for fronting most of the editing on this. I had to go away on a work trip so they did most of the revisions on this while I only got to make one pass. You can blame me (Bravehardt) for this not being posted sooner even though we'd finished writing a week ago. We have two more chapters just sitting and waiting to be revised so those should follow relatively promptly, already starting on chapter seven!
> 
> We love all your comments guys, thank you so much for reading and leaving feedback on the story! XOXO

About a block away from Peter’s school an amber portal had opened up, inconspicuously placed in an alleyway.

Stepping out of it into a whirlwind of red and gold leaves dancing along pavement left by a crisp autumn gale, brisk and refreshing to sweep through their as it caught their bangs and played with the ends of loose clothing that hung freely.  
  
Tony was relieved to be outside, as much as he enjoyed the rustic ambiance of the New York Sanctum there was still an air of discomfort to it. It was far beyond him to volunteer to stay there alone while Stephen was absent retrieving Peter from school.   
  
Tony looked over at his escort, the engineer had to admit Stephen looked sharp despite his budget apparel. The cloak always seemed to don some sort of stylish garment which had him wishing that he _had one of his own._   
  
Together, it was almost like the both of them were parental figures picking up their son from school, and the thought passed through Tony’s mind like the very wind which tousled and played with their hair - and then just as quickly, it was gone.   
  
_A passing bliss._   
  
“Alright, you ready? We can run in there, you distract the teachers with some magician tricks and I’ll grab Pete and make a run for it.” Tony _half_ joked to his taller _accomplice_.

There was something to be said for Tony’s charisma and years around a business table, and despite the rest of his outfit Tony’s blue gag gift sat upon Stephen’s proud head as he did his best to just _make it work_ .   
  
“That is a _terrible_ plan and you know it. Come on, Stark, you’re a tactician. And by the sounds of it you’ve _done this before._ ” The disapproval in Stephen’s tone wasn’t masked, but it hinted at a certain resignation. Tony was going to do what Tony wanted to do. That just seemed to be the way of it.   
  
_Tony Stark got what he wanted._

There were a lot of reasons people could stare at him that would be perfectly acceptable - Stephen didn’t mind showing off now and then, and he had eyes enough to know he was an attractive man, despite his scars. But the hat aesthetic would have worked better in Disneyland, and the doctor simply tried to look past what felt like a million eyes peering inquisitively at the hat, or hiding their laughter behind hands. Or not hiding it at all.

Of course, he imagined some of that might have something to do with the paint on Tony's nose that the other man hadn't noticed  - and Stephen hadn't felt any need to point out. Not in lieu of the hat.

At least Tony didn’t _seem_ to be laughing. 

Tony was smug as ever eyeing the hat and just as easily enjoying the general public’s reactions. For one, people could have been staring at the both of them because well, Stephen had a glowing blue hat perched on his noggin, walking down a relatively lively suburban street.  
  
On the other hand, Tony himself seemed to catch people’s attention alone because he was in fact the fabled _Iron Man_ . He’d been showcased in countless forms of media and it may have attributed to drawing an eye-or-two that a man with a bright, glowing blue wizard’s hat was walking beside _the_ Tony Stark.   
  
Tony had a reputation for being eccentric, so it wasn’t so out of the norm for a spectacle like this. It certainly didn’t flash anything louder than the red and gold painted Iron Man suit flying in. And on top of that he had paint on his face. _Glowing paint_ that Stephen hadn’t seen fit to inform him of.

 _The two were practically a match made in heaven._   
  
Tony stopped them in front of the school, waiting just past the main entrance courtyard behind the gated fencing.   
  
“Alright, Plan A we wait for Pete,” Tony grinned up at Stephen. “Plan B, if he’s late, we break him out. You portal into the school and we grab him, _trust me it will be fine._ ”

“So with all of your technology, your plan is to _wait_ , or _bust him out_ ?” Stephen raised an eyebrow at him before looking past him to the school in curiosity. “Can’t you just _text_ him and find out if he has detention?”   
  
_Cellphones_ ... hadn’t Tony chided him about calling the day before? And by the looks of things, _everyone_ appeared to have a cellphone.

“If that’s not possible, I can always ask him. From this distance there shouldn’t be too much feedback.”  
  
Besides, he didn’t want to be waiting at the gates any longer than necessary. As oblivious to how ridiculous he looked as Stark was (and really, he was certain there were videos online where he looked _more_ ridiculous, so Tony was probably used to it anyway), Stephen was wholly and completely aware of the glowing ornament on his head.   
  
A little telepathy could go a long way here, but he looked to the shorter man to text first if at all possible. “Or, you know, you could call the office and inform them that Mister Parker has a very important meeting, and the detention will have to be postponed.”   
  
Like an _adult._

“Wow, you are absolutely no fun at all, seriously that’s probably why they shoved you into that stale place you call a Sanctum.” Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Fine…” He whipped out his phone and opened up the message history with Peter.  
  
He made very clear to show Stephen the 100+ messages that Peter had so graciously spammed him with, Tony offering his own response here and there when he needed to ask a question - but most of it being Peter talking to himself.   
  
“I should honestly just give the kid your number, see how you like it. Or you know, you could do that telepathy thing. If it’s anything like how he treats texting, boy you’re in for a treat.” Tony cackled, hesitantly looking at the phone before decidedly putting it away and letting Stephen do his thing.

Stephen winced as he saw the log of messages, a hand moving to press at his temple in pain as he realized what this was going to mean. _Of course_ Peter was more excitable than Tony.

And if Peter’s mind moved even half as quickly as he expected the engineer’s did… this was going to be a bombardment that he could feel the pain of _before it had even occurred._   
  
It took a few moments to locate Peter’s mind in the crowded school - especially not knowing where the boy ought to be - but eventually he opened a tentative connection, immediately assaulted by the boy’s bored monologue.   
  
_‘Where’s Mister Stark? Am I stuck here today? This is the worst. Do I have to be here? I already finished my homework. I have so many other things to do - what about my--’_   
  
_’Peter,’_ Stephen cut in and a pregnant silence met him. _’This is Doctor Strange. I take it you’re in detention after all.’_   
  
The silence crashed down into a sudden wave of _noise_ \- curiosity, questions layered atop questions that hadn’t been answered, yet were all asked at once, and Stephen could feel the pain building behind his eyes immediately. “... This was a terrible idea. You should have just texted him. He can’t yell over _text_ .”   
  
_’Peter, please calm down. Stark and I are here to… break you out.’_

_‘Whooooooah! Mr. Strange you're here too?! What’s going on, am I dreaming? How are you doing this? Are you going to open a portal into the detention hall and break me out? Can you make some cool magical distraction or something too?!’_

The questions kept coming from the excitable teen and Tony could see the pain on Stephen’s furrowed brow and only mirrored it with his own snarky grin.  
  
“Now you see what I have to deal with? You still against opening up a portal into the school and getting him out of there or are you going to keep playing mind-games with the poor kid?”

Maybe ‘poor’ wasn’t the right word to describe Peter’s situation. After all, he was in detention for a reason, and god only knows how many times he’d been lectured by Steve through a playback on an old VCR-Television screen, chastising him about whatever foul play he’d taken part in.  
  
Peter kept yammering on even while Tony was having his words with Stephen, if anything it would have been a complete information and sensory overload for someone like Stephen who was so calm, quiet, and reserved - to now deal with someone else as high-energy as Tony, if not more so.

 _’_ **_Doctor_ ** _Strange, if you please. I was a neurosurgeon once you know.’_ The quip was quick - a thought that bit across his mindscape every time the mistake was made, but it hardly sounded scolding. It was hard to be upset with the boy, despite his enthusiasm.   
  
“A portal would be a bit _suspicious_ don’t you think? Besides, it would still look like he ditched, resulting in him getting in trouble. I have something else in mind.” If he could quiet his mind enough to focus.   
  
The magus didn’t bother to sever the connection he’d made for the time being, using it as a direct line to connect his spell with the room more easily. It took a total of a minute - _and by Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth could Peter think a lot of things in a minute_ \- before he cut into the boy’s mental meandering.   
  
_’Come meet us at the front gate. No one is going to notice you leaving, so don’t worry about it.’_

While his immediate desire was to close off the connection then and there to spare his head any further aching, he waited for affirmation from the boy before ending the connection and pressing at his temples.  
  
“He’ll be out in a few moments.”

Tony was absolutely reveling in the fact that Peter was now Stephen’s problem, and he would probably continue to be Stephen’s problem if he left that avenue of communication open to the high-schooler.  
  
“I don’t need to be a telepath for this but, I told you so!” Tony just had to poke him with the hot iron rod, chiding him playfully in a sing-song voice.   
  
Peter had made no time in the rendezvous process, it may have only been 30 seconds after the fact when Parker came barreling out of the school, down the steps like a bat out of hell and racing across the yard to meet the two _inconspicuous_ men waiting for him.   
  
Peter was bursting at the seams to have the two of them there, if not for the whole personal space issue with Tony he wouldn't have hesitated in throwing himself at the engineer, and likewise for Strange.   
  
“I didn’t expect you _both_ here, thank you so much for coming to rescue me.” Peter’s eyes flashed with anticipation, flicking between the two of them.   
  
“Well, that’s what I’m here for kid.” Tony could see the confused look on Peter’s face as he kept glancing between the paint on Tony’s nose, and the hat on Stephen’s head. 

“Definitely thank Stark for that. I would’ve left you in detention and picked you up later had it been up to me.” Stephen mumbled a bit to himself, though his expression had become immediately softer the moment Peter joined them.   
  
“Nice hat Mister Strange! Did Mister Stark make it for you?” He chimed up as loud as ever.

The doctor’s expression changed a little - becoming mildly more strained as his attention was brought back to the hat, before he sighed a bit to himself. Correcting the boy was effectively useless it seemed.

That was good to know.

“Yes. He made me a fancy hat. And I’d rather like to not wear it in public any longer than necessary; shall we get going?”  
  
The sorcerer didn’t wait for confirmation, turning on his heel and heading back down the street towards the alley he and Tony had exited earlier, feeling a weird sense of embarrassment at the idea that Peter had so quickly determined the source of his hat. Not that it should have been a surprise - he was literally standing next to Tony Stark wearing a hologram of a hat. Peter could put two and two together.   
  
But what if he’d gotten the _wrong idea_ ?   
  
The thought kept jolting through his brain. The wrong idea - _a_ wrong idea. Generally just the wrong impression of what was going on. _What_ that wrong idea might be was another thing entirely, but Stephen was abashed by the ‘wrong ideas’ that ran through his own head. It wasn’t even as though the _ideas themselves_ were what was getting him flustered so much as the idea of _Peter_ considering those ideas.   
  
And why did all of these thoughts have to hit him _in that moment_?

“In quite the rush now, aren’t we?” Tony yelled after Stephen and began to follow, he was a good ten feet behind the magus and Peter took a jump in his step to try and catch up, walking beside Tony who had his hands tucked into his pockets.  
  
“So Mister Stark, what’s the special occasion for the hat? Do I get one too? I think it looks really neat.” Peter started rather energetically. He was a little too mesmerized by the glowing blue hat and the particle trail it left behind as they walked down the street.   
  
“Actually, it _is_ a special occasion-” Tony began, he retracted a hand from his pocket to put an arm around Peter so he could lean down and pretend to whisper in his ear. His voice would be in vague earshot of Stephen, there would be no questioning the doctor’s capability of perceiving what Tony said next.   
  
“Stephen’s my bitch for the next two weeks, so he has to wear the hat.” For lack of clarification, Peter once again looked absolutely clueless and bug-eyed. Stark made no efforts to further delve into the terms of what that agreement entailed.   
  
“He owes me a real _‘big one’_ kid.”

Peter couldn’t help but try to contain his laughter, he didn’t know why he was trying to be quiet, maybe just in mirroring the fact that Tony was speaking low that the gesture was contagious.

Stephen’s stern gaze settled on the pavement beneath his feet as his face took on a particularly cherry shade, which spread slowly to his ears and neck. He convinced himself that maintaining his distance in front of them would be sufficient to keep them from noticing, muttering something entirely unintelligible under his breath before he turned the corner into the alley in a huff.  
  
Which meant coming to a stop. And them being able to catch up.   
  
Right.   
  
He closed his eyes and attempted to take a few deep breaths to calm his face as he raised his hands to create a portal back to the Sanctum, determined to be free of the blasted hat and get back to work. Clearing his throat pointedly, he did his best to derail the line of conversation Tony had started.

Before Tony made it _any worse_ .   
  
“How was your day at school, Peter?”

Peter and Tony came up behind him, turning the corner just as the spinning amber portal opened a breach to the Sanctum. Peter was the first to speed up to Strange, stepping over the portal with complete trust and turning around to the two to follow.  
  
“It was great, well you know except for the part about getting detention, I hope I didn’t keep you guys waiting too long.” He started to trail off tilting his head a bit to look at Stephen. “Hey Mister Strange are you ok? Your face is all red, do you have a fever?” Peter pointed out, never one for subtlety. 

It had been a blessed moment. A truly hopeful moment even, when Stephen thought his diversion had worked.

 _But no._   
  
Tony chortled and followed after him.   
  
“My, my, Stephen you _are_ looking a bit red, perhaps you might need to _lay down_ . Can’t have you _falling all over again._ ” He was already inside starting to discard his windbreaker, tossing it onto the Sanctum’s railing as he crossed his arms waiting for the sorcerer.   
  
“Maybe Mr. Strange has some sort of wizard sickness?” Peter commented.

Peter really was Tony’s _spiritual child_ . Just as dead set on pulling the rug out from beneath him - and so damnably innocent about it that trying to _scold_ him for it would do nothing more than mean Stephen had to explain _precisely_ why he was so flustered. That was something he had no desire whatsoever to delve into.   
  
Firing back at Tony _alone_ was one thing. Even in front of others - as long as they were _adults_ . Peter was - well, frankly Stephen didn’t know exactly how old Peter was, but the point was he was a _child_ still. Whatever innuendoes immediately came to mind were _vetoed entirely_ by the presence of a child.   
  
Tony didn’t have that issue. _Clearly_ .   
  
“ _Perhaps I should,_ ” Stephen responded after a moment, looking past both of them as he followed through the portal and allowed it to close, pulling the hat from his head and promptly setting it down on a table to cast a pretty blue glow over the books and papers there. “And you can get acquainted with my home all on your own.”   
  
He didn’t mean it. Neither of them could be left to their own devices for _that_ long in the Sanctum without getting into something they shouldn’t.

Tony had proven that yesterday.

A little part of Tony felt bad for totally berating the poor sorcerer with Peter. Peter had no clue what was going on, he was simply being sweet and concerned for the other. However it didn’t hide the devious tone to Tony’s words and that’s what made it worse.  
  
“Alright, well while you take a second I’m going to get back to painting those runes. I’ll get Pete to help me out until you _feel better.”_ Tony grabbed the paint brush he’d been using prior to their errand to pick up Peter. He got back up to the top of his ladder with the paint canister and perched himself like before.   
  
“Hey Pete you help out with the other side.” Tony was trying to talk with a brush momentarily in his mouth as he settled himself safely on the ladder.   
  
“Sure thing! Uhhh what are we doing exactly?” Peter didn’t need a ladder to reach the runes, he was able to simply scale the walls with his own unnatural talents, making the other two men look rather underplayed in terms of efficiency as he started to equally and expertly paint in the runes Stephen had been working on..   
  
“Some _wizard_ thing for Stephen” Yes, he fully intended to make things worse with his silly nicknames.

Watching the pair - Tony with frustration and concern, and Peter with curiosity running along-side that same concern - Stephen shook his head a little, nudging at his transformed cloak a little bit and tilting his head in Tony’s direction. If they were going to work at things for a moment and he could take a second to collect himself then it seemed efficient to aid Tony in his safety and speed. Because moving a ladder, he knew from experience, added a lot of time to the process.  
  
There was a brief hesitation before the cloak shook itself out of its coat form and casually dragged itself across the room to settle on Tony’s shoulders, by which time Stephen had made his way to the top of the staircase.   
  
“Try not to get in trouble. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”   
  
Stephen knew better than to leave them longer than that. Instead, he made his way down a hall, past a series of doors that were too close to each other to seem capable of housing full rooms yet led to vast other realms and worlds beyond them.   
  
His bedroom door always remained ornate - an easy way to identify it no matter how the house decided to change or move - and typically stayed on the upper floor. He’d come home exhausted one day and found it just inside the foyer, though, so it wasn’t an _always_ thing. It was mostly an _out of kindness_ thing. Knowing where to find his bedroom was typically _very useful_ \- not that he slept a lot lately, but the room still housed what clothing and personal items he _did_ have.   
  
The rest of his illusion of clothing faded away to his training robes again, the sorcerer leaned on the inside of his bedroom door to take a couple of deep breaths and compose himself once more.

Tony Stark was proving adept at getting under his skin anyway - the _flirting_ was certainly effective enough, though whether it was having Tony’s intended effect or not Stephen couldn’t really determine. What he _did_ know was that the longer he _watched_ Stark the more he _wanted_ him. And that was _a terrible thought to have with Peter around_ .   
  
… _and with Tony around for that matter._

* * *

Down in the foyer Tony was flipping out.

Literally.   
  
While the comforting weight of the cloak had come to settle on his shoulders, providing him with the gentle and secure embrace of a relic that could levitate at ease, he wasn’t at all used to being suspended in the air without means of guiding his own flight with his hand-repulsor canons.

Stephen had done this on purpose, and he tried to look over his shoulder to find the magus only to discover he was absent.  
  
“Hey- WHOA- whoa! I did not agree to this. _Strange_ ! Your crazy cloak is trying to smother me!” Tony was literally yelling and having a mild panic attack. It was having the complete opposite effect that Stephen had aimed for. Rather than increasing productivity for Tony, his stomach was dipping anxiously and he was lightly panicking about the situation.   
  
To make matters worse Tony’s freak-out was quite amusing to Peter, who was now distracted rather than concentrating on the runes, and laughing at a very flustered and flailing Tony-Stark.   
  
“Mr. Stark I don’t think it’s trying to hurt you, I think it’s just being _friendly_!”

Tony squinted, looking at the collar of the indifferent cloak. He’d finally calmed down, and almost like a pup picked up by the hackles he was guided towards the next rune, positioned where he could conveniently reach the paint and the rune he was to trace.  
  
This felt a lot like babysitting, _Tony didn’t need to be_ **_babysat_ ** _._   
  
“I don’t know how Strange does this, this kind of flying is not for me!” There was a slight air of anxiety to his voice as he nervously brushed over the stenciled rune.

“I’d say I had practice, but flying with the cloak came easily enough to me.” Stephen quipped from a spot near the balcony as he finally returned, looking entirely put-together, and a little entertained by Tony’s sulky expression.

“I thought it would be something you’d be more used to, though. Especially given the cloak doesn’t move nearly as quickly as your armour…”  
  
It had taken him nearly ten minutes to calm himself down, wash the red from his face and the paint from his arms and hands before he made his way out again, but the sight that had met him in the foyer was _priceless_ .   
  
“... Do you want _down_ Stark?” The brunette looked adorably dejected, and Stephen wasn’t entirely convinced he should have the cloak put him down regardless of whether Tony wanted it. Though naturally he wasn’t going to keep the man suspended against his will. _Not entirely against his will_ anyway. Not like this.   
  
He shut that thought down right quick though, casting a glance in Peter’s direction. “And you didn’t get anything done, either?”

Peter was too busy laughing at Tony’s antics that he almost felt a bit embarrassed to have to admit that he didn’t get as much work done despite the efficiency of having the upper hand. He was all smiles though even when he meekly responded.  
  
“No Mister Strange, but to be fair you have to admit - this is pretty funny.”

Peter couldn’t contain the mirth in his voice, still finding Tony’s antics with the cloak comical. Last thing he’d want was _wizard detention._ He minded himself back to painting the runes, probably only getting about two and a half done in the time Stephen had come and gone.   
  
Tony was still frayed, likewise he’d not achieved much and he seriously wanted to be put down.   
  
“Put me down as long as it’s not going to drop me from up here.” There was a hint of worry to his voice, but then again he also didn’t expect Strange to be _that cruel_ in retaliation to his earlier teasings.   
  
“I think I’d rather just stick with the ladder for now, I’ll leave flying with a mystical cloak to you. At least my tech makes sense to me.” There was a slight stutter to his voice, and he was clearly shaken.

The cloak was quick enough to follow Tony’s instructions, lowering him carefully to the floor and maintaining its hold on his shoulders for the moment to make sure he was steady. Stephen made his way down the stairs, watching Peter get back to work before summoning the cloak to himself.  
  
“Did you think to just _ask_ it to put you down?” The sorcerer inquired as the cloak settled around Stephen’s shoulders again, and grey eyes scanned the fabric for any signs of paint spillage. “You were just fine asking your coffee machine to make hot beverages, I would’ve thought you’d at least give it a try. Or maybe you were just enjoying being _dramatic_ ?”   
  
Stephen cast a sideways look in Tony’s direction, looking amused as he brushed at the cloak a little before gathering up some paint and a brush of his own, and allowing the cloak to bring him to a new set of runes to work on.   
  
With all three of them at it, Stephen even wondered if they’d get this mostly done tonight. It was odd - like having normal friends over to help redecorate. Except not one of them was _normal_ in the slightest. All three of them had embraced their weirdness.   
  
And they weren’t exactly _friends_ were they?

“I knew that!” Tony had piped up after the cloak left it’s shoulders. ”But to be fair I don’t talk to my technology-” That was a big fat lie and _he knew it_ “-and there’s usually some sort of briefing or training wheels period! Plus, I created it all so I know how it works!”   
  
“ **This** !” He gestured to the cloak, _the poor thing._ “I’ve never dealt with anything like this in my life.” Tony was finally on safe ground and had nothing to fear, though there was still an air of unease to him. “I’m sorry if being picked up unexpectedly and lifted off my feet might, you know, startle me?”   
  
“Umm, Mister Strange, sorry to interrupt you both...” Peter climbed down from the wall putting his paintbrush into one of the water canisters.

“May I borrow your restroom?” Peter looked a little anxious when he asked the question, the Sanctum had a very foreboding air to it and he wasn’t quite sure if Stephen wanted him straying from the area of the main foyer.  
  
Tony just shook his head, rolling his eyes. He was back to moving the ladder over a few steps and then climbing up, doing things manually this time. _Thank god._

“The downstairs hall to your right, Peter. Second door on the left. Don’t wander, though. The Sanctum can be dangerous,” Stephen smiled a little in counter to his words. His spirits were high as Peter took his leave, and he allowed his attention to focus on painting the runes again.  
  
“Come now, Stark. I seem to recall sweeping you off your feet yesterday without you flailing about like a miserably wet kitten about it. So is it the height, in particular? The _magic_ that you don’t like? Or do you just not trust _my_ magic? Should I be hurt?”   
  
His tone was light and playful as he painted, more relaxed about the banter without Peter’s presence. Giving _Peter_ the wrong idea wasn’t his goal; but if _Tony_ got the wrong impression, he wasn’t totally opposed to that. Wong wasn’t much fun to tease this way - not only because the man wasn’t exactly his _type_ , but because they had _distinctly different_ senses of humour, and thus far he still hadn’t pinned his mentor’s down.   
  
Tony’s sense of humour was much more familiar to Stephen, on the other hand, if leaning towards being a little more salacious.

Tony was at a loss for words at that moment. There was a creeping guilt that settled in despite the light-hearted jest of the joke.  
  
The cloak had on one hand, been very comforting and inviting. It wasn’t so much the fear of falling as much as it was the unfamiliarity of something that didn’t exactly revolve around his orbit of technology.   
  
The only fear that seemed to reside after the fact was the lack of control _,_ and boy did he love being _in control of the situation_ . The lack of versatility, unlike how he felt in his Iron Man suit was a complete change that made him entirely _uncomfortable_ to say the least. Plus, it was magic he was dealing with here.   
  
“I trust you, but I don’t trust you not to give me grief. I know you’re just chomping at the bit to get square with me on the hat thing…” And to that, Tony picked up the poor neglected digital wizard’s hat and shook it with enthusiasm.

Pausing in his painting, Stephen cast a quick glance in Tony’s direction before allowing the cloak to set him on the floor once more. Making his way towards the other, Stephen contemplated Tony’s countenance carefully, his eyes still lit with some mirth.  
  
“Why yes, I did expect there to be a certain exchange of banter. The key word there is _exchange_ of banter. I only offered the cloak to help you move more quickly, given the inherent dangers and additional time required to move the ladder.”   
  
“Your retribution for making me wear the _hat_ in public-” His hand extended as though he was waiting for Tony to pass the hat over, “-is written on your face, if you’d care to look in a mirror. But I would never do something to purposefully put you in danger Tony, physically or otherwise. Not even as a _joke_.”

“Retribution, pfft.” Tony reiterated, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You’re seriously taking all of this way too close to heart.” He added. Though for sure, he definitely didn’t want the Cloak of Levitation sweeping him off of his feet again.  
  
“It figures that as soon as Peter is out of the picture you are just bursting at the seams to let loose.” He sassed as Stephen continued to berate him with reiterations of his wrong doings.   
  
“And honestly I thought you enjoyed the hat, it literally breaks my heart to pieces to know that you’d use that against me, truly!” Tony feigned, but a little part of him genuinely did think that Strange appreciated the small token of personality. He handed it over.

“Well, it might be all fine and well for _you_ to set a terrible example for an impressionable youth, but _I_ feel a certain responsibility to _lead by example_ . Typically that doesn’t involve mocking and teasing his idol in front of him.”   
  
Snatching the hat from Tony, Stephen placed it back on his head with a dignified sniff.

“And as a matter of fact I _do_ enjoy my hat, _thank you very much_ . At home. In private. Beyond the judgement of teenagers. So deal with that mess you’ve unnecessarily made of your heart, you _drama queen_ .”   
  
There was a certain merriment in his expression, grey eyes appearing a little more blue with the hat in place again as Stephen watched the inventor.

“But I _do_ take your reiteration of calling me a wizard to heart. Maybe I should prove that I’m not playing parlour games with magic next time. See how quick you learn."

As brash as the sorcerer's words were, Tony froze as soon as Stephen mentioned a notion of appreciating the cute little blue hat he’d made for him. Until now he’d simply shrugged it off as a running gag, regardless of it being a program he’d executed and could merely shut it down at will.  
  
But Stephen here, and now, had just openly admitted in private that he appreciated the gesture, despite not entirely appreciating it in public.   
  
That alone meant miles for Tony, despite the other knowing it, it was enough to silence him and leave him bug-eyed as he sat there just ingesting and digesting the words in his head that Stephen had said.   
  
“I guess I’m really going to have to one-up myself the next time....” He trailed off, his chest ablaze with a soft anxious fluttering. He had nothing to come back with to Stephen, completely and utterly halted in his trail of thought by a single admission. He really had to give it to the sorcerer, he could admit defeat and be completely happy with the fact. He’d been entirely bested, and debated whether to concede to it, or not. 

“Honestly, Stark the hat is sufficient. I’m not sure I want to imagine what other stereotypes you’d have me dressed in,” Stephen chuckled a little to himself at that, not at all aware of the effect he’d had on the other. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice certainly came to mind with the hat in place, though he figured Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings might figure their way into whatever aesthetic Tony seemed to figure he should adorn himself with.

“Oh, you really don’t want to imagine the things I’ve pictured you wearing,” He purred, half serious and half joking until he finally caught root of the situation.

“I just went through an inventory of possibilities, and you’re probably right. I don’t want to imagine any of the things that _actually_ went through your head.” Though he briefly imagined the man handing him some kind of Iron Man housecoat and insisting he wear it. And that was a big ol’ nope.   
  
Honestly, Stephen typically thought he had a decent sorcerer-aesthetic. It was practical, layered, mobile… maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t a full length _robe_ and he didn’t carry around some _staff_ or _wand_ . Perhaps Tony didn’t feel like there were enough _moons_ and _stars_ on his robes, or - most likely - he just thought it was fun and games.

As much as Tony enjoyed antagonizing the man with the stone resolve, he did worry that the kid was taking an awful long time in the bathroom.

“Say, Pete’s been gone a while, y’think we should check on him?” Tony trailed off, his voice subdued, mind racing with thoughts of the man before him.

Stephen’s focus was drawn back in easily enough as Tony spoke, and he straightened a little. “... _shit_ . Yes. We should _probably_ check on him.”   
  
Whatever humour had been in his demeanour melted away in that moment as concern flicked across his features. He couldn’t imagine the boy had gotten lost trying to find the bathroom - unless the bathroom had moved? Perhaps the bathroom _had_ moved. That would have been highly inconvenient. Stephen’s mind quickly flitted through the different doors that were usually accessible from the hallway

 _There was a closet_ in that hall, right? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself...

“Where exactly is the bathroom?” Tony trailed off. He clamped his teeth down on the brush and began to climb down the ladder, once again depositing the wet brush in a can of water before putting his hands on his hips and looking at Strange for answers.  
  
“I swear Stephen if your crazy haunted mansion devoured him I’m going to lose it.” There was a hint of seriousness to Stark’s tone but he wasn’t about to entirely give up on the fact that Peter may just be _preoccupied_ and not entirely finished with whatever he was doing in there.

“The bathroom is this way.” Stephen led the other down a hall, but immediately paused when he saw the bathroom door ajar. Either Peter hadn’t come this way or he’d already left the bathroom, and didn’t make his way back to the foyer. “But Peter doesn’t seem to be here… so. We definitely should _find_ him before _he_ finds something he _shouldn’t_ .”   
  
_Shit_ . The Sanctum was dangerous. He could have told anyone that. He _did_ tell people that! He’d told _Tony_ that, had he not? And yet now Peter had wandered off into the inexplicable place without any warning or guidance. _Where_ did he get to?   
  
“The building isn’t going to eat him. It’s definitely not the _building_ eating him I’m concerned about. It’s what’s _in_ the building…” A couple of doors were briefly cracked open by the sorcerer as he poked his head in, the first one let out a strange flood of purple and blue light, the second graced the hall with a strange, chilling moaning sound.   
  
Stephen uttered a quiet apology to whatever had been making the noise before closing the door again and  Tony could feel a mild flash of concern well up inside him, but he wasn’t about to go all concerned parent mode on Stephen, no not just yet.   
  
“So let me get this straight...” Tony began with an air of vexation in his voice. His hand immediately went to the bridge of his nose and he rubbed it, trying to calm his nerves a bit with everything that had happened in the past few minutes.   
  
“Your house is alive, and it could have potentially swapped doors from where the bathroom location previously was...” As hard as _that_ was to believe, he was coming to terms with it. “And you think Peter might had wandered off into the wrong direction?!” It was hard to contain the aggravation and concern in his voice at that point. Especially considering Stark’s lack of trust towards magic and everything mysterious about it.   
  
There was still so much he didn’t know and the fact that the both of them may have just lost track of a minor in some god-forbidden haunted mansion was not a great sign.   
  
“Stephen we need to find him, now.” Tony was on the verge of an actual panic attack this time. Thinking of all the consequences considering he was in charge of looking after Peter, it was his idea to take him to the Sanctum to deal with the remaining paper work with his guardian and now he’d lost Peter in this house of horrors.   
  
It was easy to deflect the blame, and some of it he may have put on Strange, but the majority of it he found on himself. And his mind frantically tried to formulate rational explanations revolving around the circumstance.

“I didn’t say I thought he left the bathroom on this floor, I’m just working from what I have. He went looking for the bathroom, we didn’t see him between the foyer and the bathroom, and the bathroom is empty. Logic dictates we at least try this hall first, don’t you think?” A cold, _concentrated_ tone was in Stephen’s voice and on his features. He dealt with crises. He’d _trained_ to deal with crises, so panic wasn’t his first instinct.

Instead it was a wash of ice water over everything inside of him, a calm that stung until it soothed. He skipped doors here and there; some would not open for Peter due to their wards, others he _himself_ knew better than to open and if Peter _had_ opened them the doors would not be closed.   
  
The sorcerer was precise in his movements to each of the doors, and as he neared the end of the hall the former dead end seemed to shift and change to create a switchback staircase. “Hm. It seems he’s found himself upstairs after all…”   
  
The hallway upstairs hosted his room, Wong’s room, a training area, and the massive doors to the New York Sanctum’s library, and his knowledge of that leaked a slightly warmer calm into his tone. Downstairs could have been a problem. Up here Peter’s chances were certainly better. The intermittent doors in this hall always seemed a little less dangerous.

“Don’t you just brush this off like everything is ok!” Tony couldn’t help but snap, rather than keeping his cool like Stephen did. Calm and composed as Stephen was, Tony was a lot more fiery in his responses to the situation.

“What, would you have me panic and lose my ability to focus on _actually_ remedying this issue? _I should think_ I’m of _much more use_ with a level head.” There was no response from the boy, and even the former neurosurgeon had to set his jaw and take a few deep breaths. “But please, you do go on with _freaking out_ , I’m sure that’s going to be _very_ helpful.”

“Just zip-it for a second. You’re not helping either.” Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to take a few moments to reassure himself in the situation.

 _‘Everything is ok, you're going to be fine, Peter is going to be fine; nothing’s wrong, nothing's going to happen,’_ he mumbled quietly to himself as he shook his wrists out, trying to ease himself from the nervous jitters that were building up.

Stephen paused and looked directly up for a brief moment, realizing that the kid was _more than capable_ of walking on the ceiling. If Peter _had_ been trying to mess with them, that would have been interesting. If Tony thought the building was haunted anyway, it would have been a well thought out plan by the boy to drop down on Stark to spook him.

Maybe Tony was overreacting, he thought for a moment. Instincts told him that he had to be on guard, defensive because there was a sinking feeling he had about the Sanctum and the way Stephen seemed to portray it as he spoke.  
  
Though they hadn’t tried calling for Peter yet, so logic dictated that would be the first, and best step to take rather than jump to conclusions right off the bat and start pointing fingers.   
  
“Peter? Kid, where are you?!” Tony held his hands to his mouth and called out. His voice echoed through the hall and out into the foyer, surprisingly echoing a few times but to his dismay there was no response in return.   
  
So he tried again.   
  
“Hey kid! You better not be playing games here!” He yelled once again, hoping to get some sort of response back.

Dammit Strange was right, regardless of whose fault and what was going on. Panicking didn't help the situation.

Stephen remained mercifully silent as Tony collected himself; a focused gaze found Tony and the doctor simply watched as the other man collected himself in the hall, quietly assessing Tony in concern about pushing him too hard. For a moment he wondered if he ought to have left Tony in the foyer for Tony’s sake, but the idea passed quickly as Stephen realized how much idle time would likely lead the other to worry further.  
  
If Tony thought he didn’t understand magic _now_ , how much worse would his discomfort with magic become if he actually _saw something he shouldn’t_ in the house? No manner of fun, useful magic was liable to change Tony’s mind if something happened to _Peter_ either.   
  
Tony had let out a loud huff of air before finally opening his eyes. He didn’t need the judgement of the other and pushed past Stephen in the direction that he indicated Peter had gone.   
  
But there was no sign of Peter.

Not in Wong’s room, not in the library, not in the training room - Stephen even opened a door to a wall of water and gave a brief look around to see if for _some reason_ Peter had decided to go for a swim. It seemed unlikely, but he was _trying_ .   
  
Telepathy would be useless here, he’d purposely made sure that was one of the _first_ runes he’d put up a ward against. Summoning was similarly not an option. Portals into and out of the Sanctum were well within the ability of those who followed the Path of Agamotto, but that wasn’t going to let him just _locate_ Peter.

“So you’re sure he went this way…?” Tony had composed himself again, heading briskly towards a door that was slightly ajar in the hallway.

“He’s somewhere up here, for certain, or the stairs wouldn’t have appeared as a guide. Normally the house only actively changes in front of me when it’s leading me somewhere and I’ve been pretty clear that I’m seeking _someone_ .” Stephen explained softly, his tone a little less irritated than last time he spoke.   
  
The moment he realized what door Tony was headed towards, he straightened a little to take a couple of long strides after him. If it was cracked Peter _might_ be in there… but if he was _by the Vishanti_ would he have a lot of explaining to do. Either way, he was fair sure _neither_ of them needed to see what was in that room.   
  
“Stark, I wouldn’t...” he began, but the look on Tony’s face quieted him.

He’d stopped mid step to turn around, his hand in a white-knuckled fist at his side. He was trying to remain calm and composed, balancing delicately between stressed, anxious and frustrated. All those emotions fighting to surface as his mind raced a mile a minute trying not to get lost in the heat of the situation.  
  
He turned around, remaining as composed as he possibly could before speaking back to Stephen. He let out a deep breath, looking at the Sorcerer.   
  
“Wouldn't what? We need to check every room in this house. And you’re telling me not to worry so I can’t imagine there’s more than a few rooms filled with dangerous artifacts or relics - whatever that we just don’t need to touch. Honestly what’s the worst that could happen Stephen?” Tony narrowed his eyes.   
  
“Or do you just have some super-secret weird, kinky sex dungeon or fetish room behind these doors and you really just don’t want me snooping...”

Stephen’s face tightened for a brief moment as he listened to the other, before relaxing entirely as he gave an absent shrug.

“You know what? Why don’t you just head right on in and find out for yourself?” The casual indifference in his tone conflicted with the focused fire in his eyes as he stared at Tony.

With a determined huff Tony turned around and stopped outside the door, reaching for the doorknob without hesitation and pushed it open.


	5. There's No Place Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen go looking for Peter and find much more than what they were expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter. We finally got around to finalizing chapter 5, hope you guys enjoy it <3

Tony was so preoccupied in doing exactly the _ opposite _ of what he’d been warned about that he failed to notice the markings and scratches on the edges of the door.   
  
He threw the door open and found a nebulous darkness; the room was chilly and he ascertained the sounds of something moving about within the room. Forms stirring could be heard from within the cavernous dark and this piqued Tony’s curiosity.   
  
The engineer squinted, maybe Peter was playing some hide and seek game and Strange was in on it…? He let out a deep breath, his nerves calming a bit as he yelled into the darkness. 

There was definitely something or someone in there.

However it wasn’t  _ Peter. _

Tony found this out the hard way when in attempting to call out to the kid his shouts were cut short before the words could leave his throat.   
  
A massive black tendril shot out from the void and latched onto his arm, followed by another that immediately encircled his waist. Black tentacles, suckers and all began to drag the engineer in as Tony clambered to grip the doorframe to stop himself from being towed in.   
  
“What the  _ hell _ ?!”

Doctor Strange leaned against the outside of the doorway with a look of smug amusement as he watched the brunette struggle. He knew  _ full well _ what was in this room. There were no threats to Tony - he’d fed the creature that morning himself. 

It was just feeling…  _ frisky _ .   
  
And it was hilarious to the sorcerer in that moment.   
  
“Do let me know when you want my help.” His tone was calm and measured, his arms crossed over his chest loosely. “Or, you know, if you want some private time with Beatree here I can give you two a little bit.”

Tony was flustered at Stephen’s words; that was definitely not what he wanted  _ at this moment.  _ This must have been quite a display for Stephen, and given any other situation he would have been incredibly receptive to this type of treatment. But they both had a task to complete right now, and this followed on the heels of a recent disagreement so unfortunately the situation couldn’t be  _ savoured. _

“Stephen, call this damn thing off!” Tony was completely red in the face, he growled as another tendril reached out and started to coil around his ankle. 

The curious appendage crept up and snaked along his thigh, grasping at his leg as the muscles in the massive creature began to contract and tighten. Yet another grappled Tony’s shoulder and he was no longer able to fight against the force of the sheer brawn let alone the number of viney feelers. 

They curiously inspected their guest and in the process he lost his grip. They then began to pull him into the room in a very cartoonish display.   
  
This  _ thing _ was thoroughly manhandling him and he had to fight back the part of his body that somehow enjoyed it, unable to determine if this creature wanted to eat him or frisk him.    
  
Apparently Tony had been  _ somewhat _ right about Stephen having some weird kinky room - but he had no idea that it would be something this robust. This was some weird anime-hentai BS right here and Tony was no stranger to those terms despite it not being within his orbit of interests.

He’d navigated his fair share of Japanese pornography websites in his days.

“I warned you.” The sorcerer chuckled warmly as he pushed off the wall to step into the room, raising his hands in a few quick gestures.    
  
In that moment a soft wave of damp wind washed over them and the creature withdrew into the back of the room, setting Tony carefully on the floor as it retreated and curled itself back up into the shadows. 

Stephen seemed unconcerned about the creature the moment it had released the inventor.   


It was rather uncharacteristic of Stark to be on the receiving end of the embarrassment, but after being thoroughly frisked and fondled by an overly  _ friendly _ tentacle monster there wasn’t much he could really do to counter his current state.   
  
He was having a very difficult time keeping his bearings straight. Was he the only one here trying to to take things seriously? Which was rather ironic given how the tables had shifted dramatically.   
  
Grey eyes were trained on each aspect of the brunette’s features - the red in his face, the increase in breathing, the mussed up outfit - and Stephen smirked a little as he approached Tony.

“You look good like that.”  
  
Stephen had that  _ perfect _ shit-eating-grin plastered over his mug, looking all holier-than-thou, for once in their growing interactions having put Stark in his place. Tony was simply gawking up at him from the floor, hair tousled and messy, glasses tilted and off center, tank top half ridden up to expose a rather defined midriff and clothing generally wrinkled and creased like he’d not ironed and folded his laundry after taking it out of the dryer.   
  
If only the darkness hid the redness in his cheeks, he was flustered by all definitions of the word and he picked up what little pride he had left, stood up and approached Stephen. 

He tried to speak, his mouth opened and closed like he was going to say something,  _ let the Sorcerer reaaaally have it _ but he just… couldn’t?    
  
He had a finger raised as if he was ready to harangue him but he was just... beyond words. He was staring red-faced back at the magus completely and utterly bewildered by what just happened. 

Anxious butterflies fluttered in his chest as he leered at Stephen. Stephen just admitted to his face he looked good.    
  
_ Stephen said that  _ \- those words  _ came out of his mouth _ , joking or not. 

Anger, embarrassment, worry, and complete and utter fondness for the man in front of him collided in a wave of conflicting emotions making him feel rather light-headed as his chest swelled.   
  
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and ran a hand down his face. He then side-stepped Stephen, exiting the room to continue their search without a word more.

“What?” The taller man followed after him, closing the door pointedly behind him as he exited the room, leaving the tentacle monster to it’s own devices. “Didn’t you enjoy that?  _ I _ certainly did.”    
  
The teasing seemed natural in that moment during a rare opportunity of having rendered Tony Stark speechless, and if Stephen seemed at all uncomfortable or  _ ashamed _ of his behaviour he certainly didn’t show it. He simply maintained his self-satisfied smirk as he strode down the hall, checking a door and ignoring his own bedroom door entirely as they passed it - if Peter had entered the room Stephen would have known.    
  
“Did you feel like checking out any  _ other _ doors,  _ Tony _ ?” The name was drawn out into a deep, playful purr. “Or will you  _ trust me _ when I say you  _ shouldn’t _ open certain doors?”

Tony halted in his steps, he turned around still red in the face, his words finally returning to him.

“I’m going to just take your word, you can lead, thank-you-very-much! Next time,  _ you _ deal with the frisky monster in the closet!” Tony was heaving in and out, finally able to compose himself and relax now that he’d expelled all the hot air from his lungs.   
  
“Why, do you even have that thing in the Sanctum?!” He blurted out, he still hadn’t finished yet with Stephen, and despite his completely ruffled disposition, he was determined to admonish Stephen for  _ letting him open the door. _

“ _ That’s _ what you want to ask? Why I have a  _ tentacle monster _ in my  _ magic house _ ? Do you think I often have guests who are of a mundane nature?” 

Stephen paused a moment before clarifying. “By mundane I mean non-magical, or Earthly. Not that you  _ or _ Peter are dull.” That implication would have done them all a disservice - both Stark and the spider-boy were intelligent individuals and deserved their respect in that way. Stephen wasn’t going to undermine that.   
  
Tony felt his heart palpitate for a moment. He’d taken a notice that his attraction for the sorcerer as of late had started to bloom into something much stronger than just an appreciation for his alluring physical attributes -  _ no it was much more than that. _

The deep recesses of his mind also couldn’t suppress the image of Stephen potentially falling victim to the creature rather than he. For sure their roles would be reversed and he would have quite enjoyed seeing Stephen in such a compromising position.    
  
He was once again staring the magus down trying to hold onto the frustration but it all seemed to just melt away the more their eyes stayed locked on one-another. Tony had in that moment been tempered, softened, and concerned himself with once again finding the kid.  
  
The sorcerer’s gaze didn’t waver in the slightest as he watched the other. Their faces were only inches apart. Stephen had been tempted to take that one step closer and press firmly into Tony’s personal space, just to see how he’d react - to see whether he’d squirm in discomfort, or respond in challenge. 

Or  _ maybe _ ...   
  
Well,  _ that _ kind of thinking wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Not anywhere useful. 

This wasn’t the time. The  _ place _ he could make due with - but the time was definitely not  _ now _ . 

Not with Peter missing.   
  
So Stephen shrugged a shoulder before brushing past Tony. 

“Dealing with monsters in the closet  _ is _ my specialty.”

Tony stayed quiet as he followed, continuing to skulk quietly behind Stephen as he kept his distance. He wasn’t so much angry as he was curious and tentative about what would linger behind each of these doors. Silence may be taken as indignation but of all the things, he was currently trapped introspectively, thinking on what exactly happened back there.   
  
Stephen mentioned that there were definite threats within the Sanctum, and he’d yet to see any real dangers - which left him wondering if the house wasn’t out to get him after all. As much of a scare as the creature behind the door had been it hadn’t necessarily brought harm to him. If it were really necessary, he probably would have been able to use his nano bots to burst or cut a limb - and why didn’t he?   
  
He mulled over the instance, eyes focusing on Stephen’s backside as he blazed the trail through what felt like an ever-changing labyrinth of halls and doors. Linear, yet unknown and always a mystery, peppered with a degree of risk.    
  
His eyes molested the back of the slender magus’ head, taking in the greying wave of locks that wound around the sides, tucking behind his ears. The way he walked, the way he carried himself and for someone he usually understood as being stiff, unmoving and serious (from his first impressions), he couldn’t help but notice how in such a short time those original preconceived notions he had seemed to fade in the time they shared.   
  
Had they both just warmed up to each other in such short a time? It was hard to believe because even in public Stephen donned that same mask, but in private  _ things were much different. _   
  
“If this house is so magical, can’t you just have it tell us where Peter is?” Tony finally spoke up after minutes of silence treading behind the other man.

“Not exactly. I  _ do _ wish it worked so simply. But the house seems to be  _ aware _ that we’re seeking Peter, so I can only assume that this meandering is because he’s  _ safe _ and the house has other intentions.”   
  
For a moment, Stephen slowed his pace as he considered  _ what _ intentions the house might have. Perhaps it had something it wanted to show  _ Tony _ as a thanks for the repair? Maybe it was trying to ward Tony off? Or maybe it had nothing to do with Tony, and he was a tag-along? 

Stephen wasn’t exactly certain. He had never  _ lost a child in the Sanctum _ before.   
  
But the Sanctum, while dangerous, wasn’t  _ actively  _ hostile. And thus far there had been no blood curdling screams of agony, or really, anything at all to indicate trouble. The Sanctum wasn’t rushing them - if anything it seemed to be keeping them from making too much progress.  
  
Stopping finally, the Sanctum’s master rested his hands on his hips to stare rather sternly at the ceiling as though somehow that would help. 

“But you know house, you can help out  _ any _ time now.” The cloak slipped from Strange’s shoulders, quirking itself about for a brief moment before the doctor nodded. “You too. Go take a look for Peter. See what you can find.”

“Do you even know where you’re going? We’ve been walking for ages in a building that should be no more than a fifth of the city block - if even that.” Tony looked around, the creaking of the foundation settling leaving an uneasy feeling with him.   
  
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that you know exactly how to read this damn building. If you don’t think Peter’s in trouble then I’m entirely trusting you here to figure out what’s going on.” Tony strongly disliked the idea that with all the tech in the world, all the knowledge of the modern age, it all amounted to absolutely nothing in this magical fun-house.   
  
He knew better than to go poking into random rooms after the last time, opening doors let alone touching any of the relics out on display. Stephen slowly turned to face him, looking  _ very _ thoughtful suddenly. 

“I’m confident that he’s safe. But it just occurred to me…  _ you _ still have his phone number. Reception can get a bit weird in here so I wouldn’t call, but perhaps if you send a text message? Have him meet us at the foyer? Or ask him where he is at least?”   
  
Technology in the Sanctum was poorly behaved in general, but there was a small part of him that hoped in this instance tech would be the answer. It would be a simple solution - and he knew as well as anyone else that Stark’s technology was  _ far _ more reliable than other providers around the city.   
  
But he was definitely leaving it to Tony because at least the kid already  _ had _ Tony’s number.

Of course! Why didn’t he think of that? With everything that was going on Tony hadn’t even thought to text Peter, he could easily blame all the distractions but it was such a basic foresight on his behalf.  
  
“Now I feel kind of dumb for not thinking of that myself.” Tony could have smacked himself in the head. Without wasting any time he pulled out his phone and sent a message.   
  
_ ‘T: Hey Pete, where are you?’ _   
  
It was a few seconds before Tony got a response.   
  
_ ‘P: Sorry, kind of lost. I got distracted on the way back and I can’t find my way backt’ _   
  
Tony frowned at his phone.   
  
_ ‘T: Where are you now?’ _ There was a latent period in responses.   
  
“I got a response, but he’s just as lost as we are. Unless you can somehow guide him back.” Tony offered Stephen his phone.

The doctor took the phone long enough to briefly check the messages over, content with the idea that the message didn’t seem  _ distressed _ at least. He offered it back swiftly, settling his gaze on Tony’s face as he did so, assessing the brunette’s reaction as much as anything else.   
  
“The Cloak of Levitation is trying to find him. Otherwise, I would  _ like _ to know what got him so distracted… that might help in determining where he is. Can you get a picture message from him or something? Some idea of where he’s at?”   
  
The Sanctum typically had  _ some _ fixed rooms - Stephen tended to use them as markers for himself when he was thrown for a loop by the sudden changes in the Sanctum’s layout. 

“Alternatively, I can play some kind of song or alarm for him to try and follow.”

“You realize if we ask him to take a selfie he won’t stop, you are asking me to do the equivalent of sending my home address to the paparazzi.” Tony looked up to Stephen rather unimpressed with the suggestion, but hey it made sense! 

_ -Unfortunately…  
_   
“Well we’ll have to be certain he  _ deletes _ most of those pictures I’m sure.”    


Tony retrieved the phone and relayed the message instructing Peter to take a photo with the nearest landmark. What he got in return was text after text of photos of Peter making weird faces with a dog in some hallway of the Sanctum.  
  
“Huh, didn’t know you had pets, Strange.” Tony turned the phone around to show him, the phone continuing to buzz actively with new message alerts.

Stephen looked over amused at first, before inspecting each of the pictures quickly and turning with a nod to head down the hall. His pace was leisurely, but clearly determined.   


“That’s Mister Jenkins. He’s… not  _ mine _ I’m just taking care of him.” He sounded a little wistful, and whatever remained of his cocky mask changed as he smiled to himself. Peter and Mister Jenkins looked very cute together and if  _ that _ didn’t thaw out his tension nothing would. 

“I’m not exactly in the best situation to be having my own pet long term. I barely have time for Mister Jenkins, but he was injured so I made an exception while he’s healing.”

“Mister Jenkins...” Tony trailed off. He also had to admit the photos were kind of… endearing, he’d probably try to hang onto those for  _ safe keeping _ . 

“You have some weird names for your animals here. What’s an animal like that doing in a house like this anyways? Not once did I hear a dog bark so did you have that poor animal locked up in a room somewhere?” Tony pressed, curiously. 

“I assure you, the name came from the neighbourhood kids. It just stuck - enough so that he answers to it, anyway. But he’s not locked up in the slightest - he has free roam of anywhere that he can access. He can’t open doors so it’s easy to keep him out of trouble, and he enjoys sitting by the fireplace in the foyer in the evening anyway while I study. The company’s been nice while Wong is busy elsewhere.”

”You definitely struck me as the single bachelor with a pet cat to be honest, or I must be mistaking you for Wong.” Tony teased, in light of the situation, with nothing to fret about he was jesting back at the sorcerer once again. His nerves had settled some since earlier. “Or should I even bother asking anymore?”  
  
“I do like cats as well. More independent, easier to care for with a busier lifestyle. Though, they jump up on everything and I have a lot of displays here. An animal on a chair or something is fine, but…” He trailed off and then sighed. The more he spoke, the more Stephen realized he sounded like he was trying to defend himself.    
  
_ Literally _ none of that had mattered at all. He had just rambled about pets, and a recovery was slow to come for him after that one. 

There was a small snort of amusement from Tony as Stephen seemed to ramble on with his explanation. Animals were cute but he personally didn’t own any just due to how in and out of the compound he was. 

Though the idea of a communal animal wasn’t totally beyond him. Pets simply weren’t something that was a part of their life, but then again he had the Avengers; they were a _ family _ and they kept the facility lively. There was never a dull moment when living with a group of such  _ colourful _ individuals in all sense of the word.   
  
Unless… did Rocket count? That would probably be rather insulting if the raccoon heard him say that one aloud.   
  
“Sounds cute enough, I can only imagine how lonely it must get sometimes occupying a big building like this with no company. Well, you do have the cloak still, and your creepy tentacle monster,” Tony added as he jabbed lightly.   


“I admit, I  _ do _ appreciate the normalcy of a dog and its fairly predictable behaviours.” The mystic chuckled softly at that, casting Tony a small smirk as his thoughts were dragged pleasantly back to Tony’s earlier episode with the Beatree. He was considerate enough not to  _ comment _ on it however as he made his way towards the balcony that overlooked the foyer.    
  
“And having something to talk to so that I don’t seem crazy is nice.  _ Apparently _ people find it more acceptable to talk to a dog than your clothing.” It wasn’t as though he couldn’t understand that. But the cloak definitely seemed to listen to him more than the dog regardless of how well-behaved Mister Jenkins was.   


Tony couldn’t shake the image of the good doctor out in public talking to himself, knowing the Cloak of Levitation could don itself a masquerade as to not attract attention to it’s bearer. The image of such a casual outfit always made Stephen seem so much more  _ domestic _ despite seeing him most commonly adorning a set of traditional robes.   
  
“So let’s try that plan of yours, with the music or sound or whatever.” Tony looked to Stephen, his pocket apparently still vibrating from the photos and texts he’d prompted from Peter.  _ This got a sigh from the man.  
_   
“If you want to text him, we can wait here and I can put something on. It’s about to get… loud.” But it definitely wouldn’t be the first time Stephen had flooded the Sanctum with music since he’d taken up residence.   
  
“Yeah alright, I’ll let the kid know.” Tony pulled out his phone which had still been going off with message after message, the texts were never-ending. He tapped at his phone, not having been paying attention to the rest of the messages but indicating to Parker the details of their plan, instructing him to stay still and listen for the noise.   
  
“Alright, the kid knows, he’s listening for it.” Tony looked to Stephen. He didn’t know what he expected, he knew it would be loud but he hadn’t quite perceived  _ just in fact _ how loud it would be.  
  
A guitar line cut through the general quiet of the house loudly introducing Alice Cooper’s ‘School’s Out’ to the atmosphere around them and Stephen gave a self-satisfied nod, gesturing to a seat near the top of the stairs.

“And we wait. It shouldn’t be long.” Stephen tried to articulate over the noise.

Tony had to cover his ears, it was uncomfortably loud. Loud enough for him to even feel the vibrations of the song reverberating through the floor under his feet.  
  
Peter heard the music and he bolted off, beckoning the dog after him excitedly as he followed the melody. Mister Jenkins hot on his ankles, plodding down different corridors of the Sanctum and following the sound to its source.

Taking up a seat, Stephen’s hand waved a hand to set out a tea set on a small table beside himself. He paused after a moment, looking at the second cup and recalling Tony’s definitely-not-tea from the day before. He adjusted the cup to coffee appropriately before looking up from his task.   
  
_ Oh. _ Tony’s face spoke for itself about his feelings on the volume, and Stephen sighed to himself lightly. 

He expected the other man would have been used to concert-level volumes for certain - that was clearly not the case. Both hands settled in front of Stephen’s chest into a set of rote hand movements to adjust the music directly surrounding them. There was a bubble of silence but nothing that would prevent them from speaking.   


As the noise around them deafened Tony opened his eyes from having habitually closed them. At first Tony thought that he’d simply gone deaf, but as he realized he was able to clearly hear Strange articulate his words, with the sounds around him fading away into a dampening quiet , his hands retracted from his ears  and he went to join the sorcerer at his posted seat across the table.

The mage then offered a smile to the brunette. 

“What do you take in your coffee?”   
  
Tony gave Stephen an odd look, rather confused, one eye squinting as he did this weird side-glance before looking at the cup and slowly responding.   
  
“Black. Maybe a shot of whiskey to  _ spice things up. _ ” Tony folded his hands on the table looking around anxiously still trying to spot Peter. “You know, I should just hire you instead of having a coffee machine, you could make me coffee every morning instead!” 

“I have far more important things to be doing than waiting on you,” Stephen chuckled a little as he offered the cup to Tony. “Besides, you should at least  _ try _ the coffee before you make that kind of decision. Perhaps your machine makes it in a manner you prefer.”   


“You’re not trying to poison me are you? Because of the deal…?” Tony’s eyes flicked up and down from the cup to Strange, tentatively taking a drink.  
  
“I could do much more  _ productive _ things with you than poison you, Stark. It’s just coffee.” Stephen looked a little amused at the question, rolling his eyes.

Again, Tony had to turn slightly red at the implications in Strange’s words; maybe it wasn’t his directive but he couldn't help but have his mind wander off to the gutter with that comment.   
  
He drew in some of the warm liquid, it was delicious! He looked up from the cup, peering cautiously at Stephen once again.

“I want one.” He referred to the doctor across the table from him.    
  
It wasn’t long before the  _ cavalry arrived _ . Peter came storming around the corner of the nearest turn, Mister Jenkins hot on his heels. Tony immediately perked up when he saw Peter who was apparently shouting out to the both of them but he was unable to be heard with the deafening sound-barrier. Tony’s gaze immediately turned to Peter, and Tony could have died from relief in that very moment, a massive weight removed from his chest. 

The arrival of the strays allowed Stephen to dismiss both the music that had been playing through the Sanctum as well as the sound exclusion spell, leaving him to climb to his feet with a sigh.    
  
“Peter. What were you thinking wandering off into the Sanctum? You could have been hurt, Or worse!”  _ Lost in another dimension _ counted as worse than just hurt in Stephen’s books. His tone held a ring of scolding hidden amidst an overwhelming amount of relief, even as he lowered a hand to summon Mister Jenkins to him.

Tony was about to admonish the kid for running off but he could see Strange was doing a fine enough job as it was and seemed to articulate all of his feelings in his own chastising. His stomach dropped anxiously, god forbid the kid get lost in any of those doors, but his heart warmed a little at seeing the small friend that Peter seemed to have picked up along his ‘journey’.  
  
The dog simply sat itself at Peter’s feet, panting and wagging his tail happily as he looked up at the boy. Didn’t that figure? Stephen chuckled softly to himself and whatever tension that had remained in his body language melting away into that amusement.  
  
“I see you’ve made a friend.”  
  
“Oh I’m sorry Mr. Strange, I heard something when I left the washroom, I found this boy right here, does he have a name?” Peter had knelt down to pet the animal, looking up rather sheepishly at Stephen knowing he’d done wrong.   
  
Tony clearly had a look like he wanted to say something, to scold him but rather than advocating for that, he leaned over and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder with a brisk pat.  
  
“You gave us a scare kid, we’re just glad you’re safe.”

Making his way over to Peter, Stephen crouched down to pet the dog gently with the boy. “Mister Jenkins is the neighbourhood’s local stray. He’s been staying with me while he recovered from a little bit of injury to his paw…” 

He paused absently to scratch at the mutt’s ear, and Mister Jenkins leaned into the fingers with his tail thumping loudly against the wooden floor behind him, before twisting with an excited whine to jump up against Peter, licking at his now easily accessible face.

“... and he seems to like you a good deal.” Drawing himself back to his feet, he cast a quick look to Tony - a clear ‘ _ what am I supposed to do with this?’ _ written across his features, even as he set his sights back on Peter and the dog. Seriously, Mister Jenkins apparently had a new favourite person  _ just like that _ . Not that he could exactly blame the dog for adoring Peter given the boy’s enthusiasm and energy and general zest for life.   
  
The scene in front of Tony was thankfully very sobering, almost surreal in a sense. It felt so homely, so wholesome as if he wasn’t deserving of such an inheritance.    
  
Tony was a protector so he felt personally responsible for Peter, having ushered him into the world of super-human and superhero activities at such a young age - despite the boy of course already had his own affairs in the business contrary to that. In a sense he was a mentor, a father-figure for the boy who simply didn’t have that in his life.  
  
He always felt there was a necessary distance that needed to be maintained from the kid for both his own sake and the boy’s. Too much would spoil and shatter the delicate, administrative yet humble charisma that Peter charmed everyone with.    
  
What made his morals what they were.   
  
But not enough would put the boy in a position where he was always trying to impress and meet some expectation at the risk of his own well-being, and Tony knew all about that.   
  
Strange however knew how to balance all these key assets that formed their very fragile yet healthy cultivated bond. Just like a paternal heritage, strict, subtle, merciful and enriching.   
  
And Tony really admired him for that.  
  
“So what now guys? Are we going to finish those runes?” Peter was still coddling the animal, hands gently braced on its neck, scratching lightly into its fur.

Pushing himself back to his feet after giving the dog a last little pat, Stephen sighed a little to himself and reached for his cup of tea again as he turned to head to the top of the stairs, looking at the room thoughtfully.    
  
“It doesn’t all have to be done today. It might be best that I do the rest of it and keep  _ you two _ out of trouble.” His tone seemed cheerful enough, and the playful emphasis in his words lingered in a small smile on the sorcerer’s features as he glanced at them briefly.   
  
“As much as I appreciate your help, it might not be the safest place for you, Peter.” At the very least it wasn’t the best place for Tony to be worrying about Peter. The painting wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress for any of them, and while Peter’s wandering had turned out okay - what if it  _ hadn’t _ ?

“That’s right, I’ll need that form from you kiddo, the consent form I sent your aunt to sign.” Tony had completely forgotten, throwing back the rest of his coffee - as if he wasn’t hyper enough.   
  
Peter seemed a little caught off-guard and nodded immediately when he’d regained his bearings, hands still idly petting the animal.   
  
“Ah! Right Mr. Stark, they are in my bag, I should have just given them to you from the start.” He trailed off. He was about to run off once again to the foyer where his bag was stowed but he honestly had no idea where he was. “Uhhh Mr. Strange, how do we get back?” He paused, looking at Stephen. Tony put the cup down, he wondered the same thing too.   
  
“Maybe we need to put on a pair of red sparkling slippers and tap them together a few times while repeating some sort of mantra.” Tony commented with a little zest.

Chuckling at Tony’s words, Stephen smiled to himself as he continued down the hallway, passing a couple more doors before stopping himself at the top of the grand staircase. “I can always  _ provide _ you the red slippers.” The Wizard of Oz was a classic - naturally he’d watched it. More times than he cared to, though he’d blame that eternally on Donna. Wizards hadn't been his thing growing up - funny how life turned out. The sorcerer adjusted his hat, turning in place to look at them, cradling his teacup between his hands again. 

“I mean - red is my colour, I bet I could easily rock a set of red slippers more stylishly than that hat.” The shorter man provoked, nudging Peter in the side a little who was still just as confused as to why Stephen was still wearing that hat - but had accepted that fact long before.  
  
Tony knew he could get away with basically any sort of odd or robust fashion sense, it was almost a trademark.  
  
“I’ll make a distinct point of adding a heel. Let’s say maybe three inches? Might get you ahead of Peter’s growth spurt. Or we could go full platform - like your suit.  _ Really _ make sure you look tall and intimidating.” Stephen fought not to chuckle to himself at that.“The foyer is back this way and down the stairs.” He could find the foyer in any state. Even drunk. The foyer never got lost.

Tony could be perfectly intimidating to someone who had wronged him, sure. But as to whether he was a generally intimidating figure…? No. Not to look at. There were intimidating things  _ about _ Tony and he had no doubt in his mind that if Stark chose to go full super-villain, Earth would have a hell of a time trying to rein him in.

“Ok I’m going to stop you there-” Tony held up a hand. “No-no-no, you said slippers so they better damn-well be slippers. And red ones too.” Tony was obviously having second thoughts about his little joke, there was such a thing as taking a joke ‘too far’ even by his standards and that lovely wizards hat? Well, it wasn’t necessarily one of them.

“I did say slippers. Dorothy’s  _ ruby red slippers _ have - and have always had - a slight heel. Even when Gilbert Adrian originally created a so-called Arabian-styled test pair. The original designs called for beads, as well - but they were too heavy for practical use in filming... So  _ do _ let me know if you’d prefer the  _ beads _ or the  _ sequins _ .” Tony had to squint through the entirety of the explanation, was Stephen actually schooling him right now? Yes, this was happening… He waited until the wizard had finished his lengthy monologue on probably one of the most pointless details in the world before responding flatly to the final inquiry.

“Sequins, obviously. But  _ no _ heels. I want shiny house slippers, and they better be comfortable dammit! That hat I made you is so comfy you don’t even know it’s there!” He pointed out matter-of-fact-like. He headed down the stairs, a hand on the banister as he stepped around the open hole in the staircase, waiting for Strange to follow as he stood next to the kid.   
  
“I think you should put the heels on them!” Peter chipped in. Tony turned to him, a finger held up.   
  
“You’re not part of this, zip-it.” Tony quickly countered, giving Peter a look.   


“Remind me to never get him a gift.” Stephen mused aloud to Peter. “He’s so  _ picky _ and ungrateful. He’s out here butchering the  _ classics _ .”   
  
Both followed after Stephen down the hallway, Tony still feeling a little undecided with his conclusions about the Sanctum. Peter more-so chasing after Mister Jenkins while at the same time attempting not to get too far ahead.  
  
Tony had a gallop in his step as he sped up to catch up to Stephen, right at his side with hand gestures and-all, obviously trying to make his point to the naturally aloof magus.   
  
“I should probably get the kid back home, and you can help me.” Tony said as if it was an indisputable fact, because it was. “Then we we can finish off the runes tomorrow if you haven’t already completed them.”

Ah, perfect. All an elaborate ploy to detract from the idea of wearing horrible red ruby slippers.  
  
Stephen finished off his tea just as he reached the large room at the top of the stairs, calling out to make sure Peter watched his step on the not-yet-repaired steps, before leaning against the banister and settling his gaze on Tony.   
  
“Will you be heading back to Peter’s with him, or do you have other plans?”  
  
He stood beside Stephen looking between the two. Yet again at a crossroads emotionally where a part of him strongly inclined he stay and draw things out a bit so he could enjoy their company. But on the other hand Peter’s aunt was expecting him, and as much as the kid advocated in that moment to stay and help - Tony also didn’t want to feel the wrath of Peter’s guardian, it was hard enough to get the damned forms signed.    
  
_ Hell hath no fury like a worried parental figure. _   
  
“I can  _ catch a lift _ anywhere, unless you also personally wanted to escort me home as well.” He grinned. “That is, if you haven’t had your  _ fill of me _ for the day.” He prodded lightly.  
  
The smile stuck to his face didn’t seem to lessen any even as Stephen shrugged a shoulder lightly. After everything that had happened today the idea of  _ Stephen _ being tired of  _ Tony _ felt unusual -  _ one of them _ had been put into a state of near panic today, and it hadn’t been Stephen.   
  
“Why don’t you get those forms from Peter and we can drop him off… and then you can decide if you’d like to go home or what. I’ll drop you off wherever you’d like, naturally.” Stephen’s fingers moved to his hat to touch the brim in acknowledgement.  
  
Stephen’s compliance was nice when it came to the portals, but he half missed the  _ friction _ of their silly bantering, always enjoying the mild and comical discourse of their disagreements, especially when he could silence the other with a comment that would really put him on the spot.   
  
“Alright chop-chop, let’s get going before I get in trouble!” Tony clapped his hands together waiting for Stephen.  
  
With a familiar ease, Stephen’s hands lifted, his hands moving by rote to open the sparking portal to Peter’s home, not thinking much about the effect it might have on Peter’s aunt if she saw it. By now he was certain that Peter’s aunt knew well enough that her nephew hung around weird people. Or, at least that he hung around Tony Stark. That made it someone  _ else _ ’s problem to explain away.   
  
“It was lovely to see you again, Peter,” he began to greet the boy goodbye, before watching as Mister Jenkins followed his nose through the portal to sniff around a bit.    
  
Tony lifted an arm to wave at Peter as he stepped over the breach of the spinning amber and into his apartment. There was a startled sound of plates dropping and a very distraught feminine voice as Peter crossed the threshold and gave Mr. Jenkins a couple pats on the head.   
  
_ Aunt May could be heard having a minor episode in the background about what was going on. _   
  
An eyebrow raised for a moment before the sorcerer summoned a bowl of kibble to his hand and shook it lightly. The dog looked up immediately, head tilted and an ear raising before he trotted himself back through the portal to sit himself at Stephen’s feet, wagging his tail excitedly.   
  
“Stay boy.” Peter had knelt down on the other side to make sure the animal did as spoken to before lifting himself to wave at the odd duo on the other side.  
  
“There. Good boy,” Stephen murmured softly as he knelt to set the bowl down, ruffling the dog’s ears before getting back to his feet.

“Goodbye Mr. Stark, Mr. Strange! Let me know if you guys need help finishing off those runes tomorrow. I’d be more than happy to help, it was a lot of fun!” He returned the farewell gesture of his own, hard pressed to have to leave the two and the adorable pup friend he’d discovered.   
  
“Oh and make sure May is ok, I’m not explaining this one to her!” Tony smirked. He attempted to help Stephen out with the animal, putting his hands down on the canine’s hackles in case it attempted to chase after Peter.   
  
He’d taken the moment to just appreciate this fond farewell, something about this moment sparked some very warm and fuzzy feelings in his gut that he’d seemed to be dealing with a lot these days.  
  
And he quite enjoyed it.    
  
He glanced up at Stephen from his position, it was hard not to fixate and stare as he idly pet the animal beneath his palms.

Stephen’s hand raised to wave though as it fell to his side again the portal closed and he sighed softly to himself, looking down at Tony and the dog.  
  
Tony had picked up the small animal and was holding it in his arms, he had to admit that the poor little thing had really grown on him and not because it was cute - but because of what it meant to the people who he seemed very fond of in his life right now.   
  
Yes, he thought it, he was very fond of Stephen and Peter and in both very different and unique ways.   
  
Mister Jenkins was staring inquisitively at Tony, his tongue tucked away and both ears perked the moment Peter was clearly cut off from him. Stephen knew it as a pre-face-licking expression, and he hesitated only a moment before smiling a bit.   
  
“I’d get out of his range if I were you. He’s about to attack you with dog breath and kisses. One is disgusting, the other is wet, and you’ll get both.”   
  
Who was to say whether Tony cared about having animals invade his personal space? He’d seemed a  _ little _ ruffled by it before - but that could have been because Beatree was definitely not a cute, safe,  _ familiar _ animal like a dog.   
  
“Where can I escort you, Mister Stark?”  
  
Tony opened his mouth to speak but before the response could leave his lips Mister Jenkins was lapping his face up like he’d smeared it with peanut butter. It wasn’t just one kiss, oh no - but a barrage of licking right on his mouth that made the poor engineer’s face contort. He sealed his mouth shut as the animal relentlessly kissed Tony’s face.   
  
_ Boy the animal seemed to have a real affinity for facial hair _   
  
Unable to respond through the animals loving attacks he held the pup out to Stephen hoping it would become distracted. Having closed his eyes during the assault and not even realizing it, he opened them again, face wet with animal slobber -  _ yuck. _   
  
He now smelled like kibble and dog breath.   
  
“As I was about to say, probably back to the compound would be good...” Tony’s face finally relaxed, he blinked a few times.

Pulling the dog from Tony’s arms, Stephen simply  _ laughed _ . He gave Mister Jenkins a quick pat before setting him on the floor and letting him sniff his way to the bowl of kibble, but a freed hand moved to stifle at least a little of his mirth.   
  
The ‘ _ I tried to warn you’ _ was written in his face, but he didn’t say a word as he took a few breaths to sober up. Tony’s face - his expression, the slobbery wetness that made parts of his face shiny, his not nearly so nicely groomed facial hair - made the prospect of calming the laughter difficult however.   
  
So instead, he dropped his hands once more to create a portal, before stepping in a little closer to Tony and pressing a soft kiss of his own to the mostly slobber-free forehead.   
  
The act itself felt like it had been executed in slow motion. The animal was picked up from his arms and whisked away, only to have gentle warm lips pressed to his forehead.   
  
In that moment Tony had frozen, gone stiff as a board. He couldn’t even comprehend the hot sting of a kiss that seemed to resonate even after Stephen’s lips had left his brow. His brain was racing a mile a second in attempts to register the tender gesture but for some reason none of it seemed to compute.   
  
“Thank you for your help,  _ Sir Knight _ . If you need my services… well,  _ you have my number _ .”  
  
His body was slowly responding, and heat rushed to his face in a wave; Tony felt light-headed, almost literally teetering in recoil. It was something of his innermost desires brought to life, so much so he couldn’t believe it just happened.   
  
He opened his mouth, gaping at Strange trying to articulate his words. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish bobbing in a fishbowl yet he couldn’t enunciate. 

Stephen had successfully caught him off guard and left him completely tongue-tied. But would he really allow the magus the pleasure of having the upper hand here?  _ Again _ ?   
  
_ Did this really need to be a competition…? _   
  
Regaining his bearings he cleared his throat, expending no effort into hiding the hot flush of red on his cheeks and ears as he gently seized Stephen’s hand to play along with the act. He was nervous as all hell but he brought the good doctor’s hand up to his mouth and planted his own return just above those scarred shaking knuckles. Placing a gentle, chaste kiss before he had to don his trademark smirk in an attempt to recover.   
  
“And I won’t hesitate to do so should  _ the damsel _ ever be in distress again.” His words were clearly hitched and shaking but he held it together enough to pass through the portal’s breach and lower himself with a bow to Stephen.

By the time Tony rose from his bow there were only hints of sparks in the air, and before he could even blink those too had disappeared.


	6. Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small intermission chapter completely written up by Foxglove_Fiction. Stephen anxiously muses about his thoughts and feelings about Tony to Wong.

“What are you doing?”

It was the first time he’d heard Wong’s voice in what felt like a week and given Stephen’s luck, he just figured the other sorcerer would choose to show up  _ now. _

Stephen sunk further into his chair by the fireplace and carded his fingers through Mister Jenkins’ fur, hoping the cloak around his shoulders would  _ somehow _ render him invisible to the other man. 

It did not. So he took a swig of his drink.

“Did you really eat a whole container of…” Wong started, the analysis had begun. He could feel it in the silence. 

He’d started with the empty ice cream container already, which gave Stephen a good idea where his eyes had settled. There was an open bottle of whiskey on the floor beside him, he was settled on a rug in front of the fireplace with a series of books that he admittedly hadn’t touched since pulling them out.

“I’m going to assume based on your lack of response that you’ve been possessed by the ghost of a moping sixteen-year-old girl.”

“Oh  _ shut up _ .” Stephen sniped quickly and from the corner of his eye he watched Wong take a seat in a chair. His eyebrows raised high on his forehead as he looked thoroughly amused.

“Strawberry shortcake, huh? It can’t be all  _ that _ bad then.”

There were a few moments of passing silence before Stephen finally turned his head to look at Wong, trying to assemble his intoxicated thoughts into something much more coherent and useful than the mental disarray he’d been sorting through for the last several hours. He swallowed back another sip of whiskey, but there weren’t words yet. 

He didn’t know how to explain.

_ Stephen barely knew what was even wrong _ . And that was the problem.

“The puppy look should be on the dog’s face, Stephen. What did you do?”

The floodgates opened.

“I kissed him.”  _ No, that was wrong. _ “I mean, I kissed his forehead - _ Shit!  _ Anyway, I just kissed his forehead and… sent him on his way. And I don’t know  _ why _ I did it. I  _ don’t _ . Was I trying to mess with him? I don’t know. Was I trying to flirt? I don’t  _ know _ ! Do I  _ like _ him? Of course! That’s what’s making this so frustrating! Because I  _ do _ like him but maybe not like  _ that _ ?” 

Stephen’s hands remained fixed in place - one in his lap, the other still resting amidst Mister Jenkins’ fur - and Wong listened with a politely interested expression. He would take in whatever information the other supplied before casting judgement, but Stephen hardly seemed to be seeking approval. 

Wong found himself wondering if Stephen had vocalized all of this to the house earlier on; it wouldn’t have been the first time.

“I  _ like _ just talking to him. It’s pleasant - engaging! What if I made things weird? But he kissed my hand after and…” Stephen paused for a moment, looking at his hand with a thoughtful expression. His posture shifted a little, and the dog adjusted its head and started to snore softly atop Stephen’s knee.

“So, what did I do? I don’t really  _ know.. _ . And worse? I don’t know what the outcome will be. I just keep thinking I don’t know what to say if he  _ asks _ because… I don’t have a clue what I want. To be his friend, I think…?”

“Ah,” Wong nodded finally. “Is that the problem? You - a man who always seems to know what he wants - doesn’t know just that? This isn’t the first time you’ve been faced with this problem, I’m sure.”

It wasn’t. Wong was definitely right about that. Of course he was. He’d been there to witness some of his past struggles.

“This is  _ very much _ not the same thing though. This is…” Stephen trailed off, running his hand into his hair before leaning forward a little, resting his elbow to his knee and his head in his hand. “This is early enough for me to stop myself from getting caught up in some  _ crush _ that’s going to make the business of keeping this world safe more challenging than it needs to be.”

“You’re being dramatic, Stephen.”

“I’m not,” he responded quickly and easily.

“Alright. Who is ‘he’ then?”

The cloak suddenly began to feel too tight around him as he lifted his head to stare intensely at the fire. He was too warm, whether it was intoxication, Wong’s penetrating gaze, or just his sheer proximity to the fireplace… it didn’t matter. 

Stephen simply felt discomfortingly warm.

Sweat trickled down his neck and back, but his eyes didn’t stray away from the flames as he sighed. There’d been a drawn out silence before he answered.

“Tony Stark.”

There was a moment - a brief moment - of silence before a soft wheezing noise cut through to his thoughts, and suddenly Wong was laughing in his seat, leaving grey eyes to settle on him in confusion.

“Hah! Yes of course! I should have known! You’re sulking and  _ not _ eating Stark Raving Hazelnuts - in fact, I’ll bet you went out quite specifically to get yourself that tub of-”

“Do you  _ mind _ ? You make it sound like I garnish everything with Iron Man paraphernalia and it’s not-”

“Oh! That’s what we should do!”

“We most certainly should  _ not _ ! Wong you’re being  _ far from helpful _ right now!” Wong’s wheezing laughter came back for an encore as he slapped his knee and Stephen could only sigh to himself.

“Honestly, could you at least  _ try _ to take this seriously for a second?”

“Pft… yeah, of course. Fine.” It took him a few moments and a couple more little chuckles to himself before he composed himself properly to look at Stephen, plainly amused. 

“I’m proud that you’re considering trying to make friends again, Stephen. But are you possibly conflating the feelings of friendly affection and closeness with a romantic bond?”

Stephen groaned softly to himself as his head sunk into his hand again.

“I’ve considered that possibility. I’ve also considered that maybe I’m desperate for some kind of physical closeness and that Stark is just a  _ really distractingly provocative reminder _ …” 

The words were almost a whine and Stephen was utterly appalled by the idea that  _ that _ sound had come out of  _ his _ mouth. Even Mister Jenkins had stopped his snoring at the noise, an ear quirking despite that he didn’t move his head or open his eyes. 

His whiskey was finished off in a flash, before he carefully poured himself another, watching the liquid ripple in his cup with fixed interest. Wong rolled his eyes a little at the other before reaching to take the glass - and the bottle - from the Sanctum Master.

“I think you’ve had enough. You’re not going to find the answer to this problem at the bottom of a bottle.”

“I assure you, I wasn’t aiming for the bottom.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” The glass was handed back to him in no time, and the water that filled it was a disappointment of the highest order. “Drink up. If we’re going to discuss this it should be man to man, not man to mopey child.”

“... Thanks  _ dad _ ,” Stephen muttered under his breath, staring at the water for a moment and finally taking a sip.


	7. The Chapter Without The Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have 'the talk'

Tony had been locked deep in thought, contemplating the events of the day before. It was becoming increasingly difficult in their short acquaintanceship for the engineer to fight his desire to spend more and more time with the sorcerer he’d only recently grown more familiar with.  
  
It all started as light, unadulterated fun. Quips and jests - they were always too easy to fire and receive - but the moret time he spent in offering kindness, so too did the kindness return and open up a path for the two men who normally didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things to finally find a common ground.  
  
Tony found that growing into something much more intense, confused at first if it was just physical attraction, spot infatuation or possibly _more_. There were undeniable feelings and they couldn’t be avoided. So he’d found himself completely speechless after that brief farewell, wanting, nay - longing even more to be back in the company of the magus.  
  
There was no denying that on paper he had more than just ‘feelings’ for the doctor. He considered himself a good man by some standards - far from perfect - but definitely in most aspects, a _decent_ _human being_. And it wasn’t being a decent human being that drove Tony to offer a hand in everything Strange seemed to be in need of aid with.

Perhaps the teasing and jesting had segwayed into something much deeper for the both of them too, one could never know at this point.   
  
His fingers steadied over the touch screen of his phone, a message written out that he’d deliberated on for at least half an hour now. He was nervous to say the least but somehow found the courage, a resilient man was he - to contradict his anxiety.   
  
_ ‘T: Not sure if you still needed help with the Sanctum. Swing by and pick me up if you want anymore assistance. _   
  
He chewed on his lip, zoning out with a nebulous stare at the bright screen before eventually hitting the send button on his message.

_ ‘S: If you’re trying to get out of business meetings and paperwork, I’m sure I can arrange an excuse for a jailbreak. Unless I have to deal with Ms. Potts - in that case, you’re on your own.’ _

The response came much sooner than Tony had expected, he’d been staring at his phone, sitting on his work bench and waiting for the correspondence to come in - but decided  _ not to act like some obsessed teenager waiting for their boyfriend to text back _ . 

It didn’t stop the smile forming on his lips.  
  
The doctor was not short on quips and he’d let out an amused snort, many of his fears subsiding but still the nervous anxiety of ‘what to do next’ when Stephen  _ did _ come to answer his supposed summons.   
  
‘ _ T: Sometimes even a knight needs saving, I promise though it’s not Ms. Potts. I’m bored and we have unfinished business. _ ’    
  
He jotted down, again he took his sweet time tapping the keys unsure if he wanted to write more or less, but the message thread had already turned into a jaunt of wise-words and it was all too easy to just play along even if it did dredge up the happenings of last night with the reference.   
  
Tony sent the message and hissed between his teeth as he read more into the double meaning of his words.   
  
_ Shit, he probably should have articulated that differently. _

A response took much longer this time.  
  
Tony was shooting himself in the foot at 10 minutes in without a response. He ran his hands through his hair and had to busy himself with more work to distract him from anxious thought patterns. 

Man he screwed up on that one, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to respond back again for clarity or not.  
  
Twenty more minutes ticked by and he finally heard his phone buzz, hasty to pick up the device and clarify what he’d previously meant.   
  
_ ‘S: Do we?’ _   
  
_ ‘T: Yeah we never finished painting the Sanctum, I’m not sure if you still needed help around the ‘house’ from a big strong man.’ _   
  
He added in, attempting to rekindle the light-hearted tone of their text conversation. 

Oh how easy it could be to take things out of context with just words alone. He hoped silently it didn’t take the other an eternity to respond or he might just give up, lay down and stress-nap for the rest of the day out of sheer embarrassment.

_ ’S: The painting is nearly finished.’ _   


The response had come faster but Tony felt like he’d messed things up beyond repair with the last sentence. However the response that followed easily put his nerves at ease. 

_ ’S: But if you want to help me finish up, I can be by to pick you up in half an hour or so. I’m having lunch at the moment.’ _   


His heart was pounding in his chest and he was bordering on vertigo from the rush of emotions both negative and positive that swirled in his stomach with enough turbulence to topple a skyscraper.   
  
‘ _ T: Sounds good, just don’t portal in on me and give me a spook like the last time. I’d offer you lunch sometime but I’m a terrible cook.’ _   
  
He set his phone down on the table. 

Man, that had been one heck of a ride. Tony was anxious, both at what he was going to do when he finally saw Stephen again and how badly he wanted to see him. 

It was all so conflicting. 

Only a day and he already missed Stephen, like their mingling had become baked into their daily routine.   
  
_ Maybe he was getting ahead of himself? _   
  
Tony sighed, picking up one of the soldering irons and poking at one of the projects he’d not quite been able to focus on, thoughts much too distracted.

* * *

 

The sorcerer didn’t bother to respond, continuing his battle with his lunch until eventually he emerged the victor. Mostly. He had a small stab wound on his hand from where his fork had been turned against him and he quickly bandaged it up before going to clean up the dishes some.   
  
It was almost exactly a half an hour later that Stephen portaled himself just  _ outside _ of Tony’s workshop door, knocking three times succinctly and doing his best not to fidget. 

There was no hat and Stephen had chosen to wear his proper robes despite painting this time. The cloak hung around his shoulders and for all for all appearances he might have been there on business.   


The workshop door unlocked, granting Stephen access to Tony’s work room. He had a welding hat over his face as he worked on attaching pieces of metal and circuitry, mounting wires and switches on metal slabs. He set down the torch and flipped the helmet up - his welding helmet unironically painted just like his Iron Man visor.   
  
He sat back in his chair, nervous and it was obvious that Stephen brought some sort of funky aura into the room with him when he entered. He wondered if he should have brought up what happened last night. The elephant in the room seemed to be stifling and it was so hard to really say yet at the same time the picture was almost painted clear as day.   
  
Tony had wordlessly watched him saunter into the room, and rather than a hey-hello, the first words that popped out of him were far from that.   
  
“What happened to your hand?” Tony looked down. For all he knew it could have been a minor accident, but he still couldn’t help but draw attention to the obvious bandaging.

Stephen’s gaze dropped to his hand with ease at the other’s words - definitely simpler to look at his hand than Stark at that point - even as he shrugged lightly, trying to relax.    
  
“My food and I disagreed about whether or not it was going to get eaten.” He paused a moment before turning his gaze to his rumbling stomach.    
  
“I think I won, but we’ll see if that’s a famous last words thing.” This he could talk about.  _ Anything _ that avoided talking about the thing he was dreading would come up. 

Talking about his stomach’s odd behaviour and its relation to his meal was much easier than explaining that the rest of him was in knots over a conversation he’d imagined a thousand times the night before.   
  
It was also  _ much _ easier than explaining his heart hammering  _ too loudly _ in his ear.   
  
“Did you need to grab anything, or shall we get going?” Stephen’s eyes finally raised from their downcast position to offer Stark a smile, making an admirable effort at concealing his nerves.   


Tony shook his head, he tentatively reached out to grab Stephen’s hand. The gesture was executed so naturally he hadn’t a moment to think about what he was doing despite their recent conflicting emotions. Oddly enough, it wasn’t something he regretted and he very easily ran a thumb over the bandage before letting go.   
  
“Why am I not surprised that you’re the type of guy who likes it  _ raw _ .” He couldn’t help but return with that welcoming smile, a small chuckle under his breath as he grabbed he grabbed a simple zip-up sweater off the back of his chair before nodding.   
  
“I’ve got all I need, did you want me to order something for you? Doesn’t sound like you really got much to eat.” He pestered softly, all anxiety had ceased at this point as they eased into their conversation, and despite the elephant in the room things were starting to feel more natural again.

“I’ve had more than my fill to eat, thank you. I won’t pretend it was appetizing, but it did the trick.” Stephen’s hand recoiled slowly as it was released, moving directly into an all-too-familiar gesture that sparked a portal to life with ease.    
  
It was only after that Stephen tucked his hands away into the folds of his robe and strode back through into the Sanctum’s foyer, without missing beat. 

“If you’d like coffee or anything else to drink let me know. I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer in the way of snacks, but if you’d really like something there are a couple of locally owned convenience stores and the like around the Village.”   


Tony passed through the portal, this attitude Stephen seemed to have was starting to wear on his nerves. His anxiety flared up but rather than shrink away from the callous and aloof tone Stephen seemed to harbor it only seemed to challenge him to irritation.   
  
What even happened last night? Had the whole kiss on the forehead been something he’d dreamed up? It definitely wasn’t a platonic gesture, the two of them weren’t giddy females and it was something far beyond good friends would do for the male gender, especially given their professional relationship.    
  
Mister Jenkins was nowhere to be found, and the Sanctum seemed almost more empty than it had been the day before - perhaps because the lighting in the room had improved and the window in place made it seem a good deal quieter inside.    
  
“I can’t imagine it’ll take much more than a couple hours to get things finished up, so… if you need to get going at any point, I’ll be fine to finish up on my own. I appreciate your help, but I imagine you have more important things to be doing than this.”  
  
Tony didn’t know how much more he could take of this, Stephen seemed a lot distant and evasive to him for no reason. 

His jesting - ignored, any attempts to show concern - also ignored and now it felt like his company wasn’t even welcome by how quickly Strange was trying to corral him out of the Sanctum.   
  
Why would he agree to pick him up if that’s the case? Unless Strange had simply been using him, playing off his generosity and flirting with him in full consciousness that the engineer had feelings just to humour him.

And there the thought seeded itself and took form. Given the pattern of instances in Tony’s life, he found it difficult to think otherwise when a situation started to develop or hint at turning that specific direction.

It was a foolish paranoia, one stemming from self preservation given repeated instances of mistrust and betrayal.   
  
And given these circumstances, with that realization, were it the truth? It would hurt.   
  
_ A lot. _

Tony simply stared at Stephen, his brows furrowed in confusion, words lost to him at that reaction despite wanting to speak up.

_ And the doubt began to spread like roots in his mind. _

As the other’s silence continued on, Stephen’s hands began to fidget amidst his cloth before he withdrew one to close off the portal again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking at the mogul for a moment and hesitating.   
  
_ Shit. _ They were going to have to talk about this, weren’t they? That was what the visit was for.  _ A talk. _

A talk he  _ wasn’t ready for _ ... and he tried again. A little more quietly this time.   
  
“Drink? … I’ve got gin, whiskey… little bit of vodka.”   
  
Or he could just apologize. 

Would that make this easier somehow? Maybe that was what Stark was waiting for. Stephen could only imagine he deserved that much.   
  
“I’m gonna have some whiskey, if you’re not opposed.” It was little more than a mumble as Stephen moved to a table to summon the bottle and a tumbler there, temporarily struggling to open the bottle with a clammy hand before simply pouring himself a glass. 

Maybe Stark just meant to tell him off. He was pretty laid back, right? It could have easily been that he was overthinking this entire thing. 

What if it  _ was _ just a joke to the mogul? What if it was  _ Stephen _ who was--   
  
He lifted the glass to his lips to take a small sip, cutting off his thoughts. 

It didn't matter. 

What if’s didn't matter. If they were going to settle it now, then so be it.

Tony shook his head, he ran a hand over his brow a cynical smile on his face as he let out a deep breath, having taken their time in silence to formulate exactly how to broach this.   
  
“You know, of all the people who’ve taken advantage of me to get something. I have to say - your methods were the most creative.” He started, his voice a low, disturbing and uncharacteristic calm.    
  
There was too much going on inside his head.   
  
“You didn’t have to fake this-” Tony gestured at them, “-to get help from me, like I said - I was going to do it anyways for the reasons that you pitched to me. Protecting the world in any way possible is also my responsibility too.” It was hard to gauge just exactly what emotions Tony was articulating. 

Anger? Frustration? Hurt? Whatever it was it was masked under layers of cynicism.   
  
Tony hadn’t opened up to many about this, how he’d been taken advantage of by countless people in his circle of trust. And at this point given Stephen’s reactions, he saw him as no different than them.   
  
“God, I don’t even know. You really got me there Stephen Strange, I’ll give you that one.” There was a quiver to his words and he had to laugh it off as he paced off to the side shaking his head.    
  
His stomach felt like it had been fed through a meat grinder and doused in acid.

Stephen was having a difficult time comprehending the drastic tonal shift in the other.

_...what? _

The liquid he’d sipped might as well have been ash when Tony spoke and Stephen stared after him, finally silent himself as he listened. He hadn’t even  _ once _ considered what Tony might think… and yet here he was. 

And here  _ Stephen _ was without an idea in the world of what he wanted, or how to answer to the other’s accusation.   
  
The glass he held felt heavy in his hand, and since the liquid wasn’t seeming to do anything to help the dryness in his throat. Stephen simply set it down, reaching a hand to gently shush the agitated cloak.   
  
“Is that what you think happened…?” He asked after a moment. His voice was quiet, but his eyes at least remained fixed on Stark this time, not dropping away despite his desire to look  _ anywhere _ but at the other man.    
  
“You think I…” He trailed off, contemplatively, then reached for the cup again. It didn’t matter if it tasted like ash, drinking was a better idea than talking before his thoughts were composed.   
  
As if they were going to  _ become _ composed. 

“Sure. If that’s what you think happened, then yeah. That’s me.  _ A manipulative asshole _ .”

Tony stopped pacing for a moment to turn around on his heel and face Stephen. His eyes flicking between the bridge of Stephen’s nose and his eyes. Rivalling a cold icy stare with his own furious deep brown irises.   
  
He swallowed a forming lump in his throat, mouth opened as he let out a shaky breath of air, fist balling at his side.

He was clearly distraught. 

He wanted to throw a fist, break something, storm off somewhere in a rage. As soon as another infuriated thought reached the precipice of his mind - he let the anger fall away, just like that.    
  
It wasn’t worth his frustration, he wasn’t a teenager and this wasn’t Pepper, this wasn’t Obediah, this wasn’t  _ Steve _ . He’d moved on from those past transgressions and to simply react would have only meant that he hadn’t.   
  
He sneered, letting out a puff of air from his nose.   
  
“Hey, you said it.” Was all he responded with before turning and heading for the door in a deadly calm.

With a resigned sigh, Stephen took a few steps forward and spoke quietly. “Choice is yours, but if you want to stay ten minutes more, I still owe you eleven days of portals. I may have a teleportation gem around here that will suffice as payment.”   
  
He finished the glass of whiskey in a half a moment, before turning and making his way towards the back of the room to sort through things. 

“Or I can at least create you a portal home. Your call.”   
  
Stark seemed to have already made a decision  _ for _ him about why he had done what he’d done.

Stephen would’ve considered it convenient, except this was definitely  _ not _ going to lead to the ‘friends’ result he’d at least had in mind. Regardless of what the man  _ thought _ of him, Stephen Strange knew a thing or two about paying debts and he’d rather this one was taken care of if it was ending like this.   
  
The doctor’s calm was very unlike the mogul’s, reserved and withdrawn to a point. A wall had been put in place, but not before some of the sadness had crept past - so it was easier to simply not face the other; to let him go  _ before _ whatever that stupid feeling got any worse.

_ Stop, go, stop...go _   
  
Stop.   
  
Tony turned around despite every nerve in his body telling him he needed to leave.

Something kept him from walking away, be it the truth of the matter - not fully believing Stephen’s words and his own assumptions, and the fact that somewhere - could he completely discredit the those times they enjoyed together?   
  
_ Surely it wasn’t all fabricated…? _   
  
“As far as things go, we’re square. You don’t owe me anything more.” Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose, a little bit of the ichor bleeding away from his tone.   
  
“The work I did for you, consider it pro bono. You just make sure whatever we installed, does what we want it to do and keeps our planet safe.” He didn’t understand Stephen’s angle at this moment, perhaps not as malicious as he’d first anticipated.   
  
“I’ll pass on the portal, I could use the fresh air.” He trailed off, and he wasn’t just saying that. Hitting the skies to spend time thinking could do some good to air out that hot head of his.

“Very well.” Stephen ceased his rummaging, running a hand into his hair in his stress and turning to make his way back to the table. He replaced the cap on the whiskey after pouring himself a second glass and stared intently at the table as he did so.    
  
“But I  _ do _ still owe you an apology, so if you decide for some reason that perhaps I’m  _ not _ who you seem to think I am… you know where to find me.”   
  
The Sanctum’s front door opened on its own, but Stephen didn’t move from his spot other than to take up a seat at the table. The cloak curled in around him a little before draping over the arms of the chair but Stephen merely settled his hands in his lap, his bandaged hand holding his glass while the other hand picked at it in discomfort.

The engineer stood just as still, he scanned the nuances of Stephen’s movements, much more attentive to his posture and mannerisms than before. He knew full well Stephen was reserved, and maybe proud - much too proud to say something along those lines without reason.   
  
The longer he stood there, the more the anger and frustration melted away from him as if the very atmosphere had been stripping it from him like built up layers of paint.   
  
“Apologize…?” He parroted rather quietly, looking at the ground and then back to Stephen. It didn’t go unnoticed that the man was binging at this moment - how a drink had been the first thing he’d offered him when he stepped through the portal upon arrival and how much the man had already thrown back.   
  
“I must be missing something here - why?” The question was rather flat and aggressive - he was genuinely curious to hear what Stephen had to say and so he took a few steps back into the Sanctum towards the magus sitting like a wilted flower in his perch.

Stephen’s head shook slowly as he raised his glass to take a small sip, before resting his hand back into his lap and resumed picking at the edge of the bandage. 

“Apologizing right  _ now _ isn’t going to do any good. You think I’ve manipulated you. What good does an apology do  _ now _ ?”   
  
He’d been thinking aloud without wholly realizing it though, and as such followed his words with a soft sigh. 

“Because I never meant to mislead you. In  _ any _ way. I spent all last night trying to figure out  _ why _ I just had to push that extra joke. But it wasn’t a joke, was it? I don’t do things like that to joke. I don’t like physical affection to be used in a joking manner, but with  _ you _ ... I don’t know. I just  _ wanted _ to.”   
  
Stephen set the glass on the table and laced his fingers together in his lap, watching them absently as he spoke. 

“So of course you’re confused. You’re right to be confused. I’m sorry for that. I have  _ no idea _ what I want… I kept telling myself -  _ kept _ \- “ he laughed shortly, without mirth. “Never mind kept. I  _ keep _ telling myself… I want to be  _ friends _ . But I don’t tend to feel like teasingly kissing  _ just friends _ either.”   
  
His hands separated to drum against his knees as he nodded lightly. “... so yeah. I’m sorry.”

Tony had to hold his breath as he dissolved the information in his head word for word. His heartbeat once again pounded in his chest like a beating drum, churning his stomach and making him queasy with each thump. The anxiety stirred and mixed in potently instilling the likeness of vertigo in his head - he almost lost his balance.   
  
It was last night all over again, replaying in his head like something so surreal. It felt like he was in a dream, and Stephen was there too - and everything was just as it was, natural and right. Everything was soft and fuzzy and the lingering feelings of child-like infatuation swirled like a turbulent gale within his chest. And once woken up from the dream - they still persisted.   
  
_ In a good way. _   
  
To hear Stephen, sitting there and just casually admit to something so mutual as if it was nothing. Sure he was probably nervous and it maybe did take every ounce of his persona to sit there and say it -  _ but he said it. _   
  
And here Tony had made the biggest error in passing judgement to a man that could hardly articulate his feelings into words. Rather than act he’d chosen to react, and he was shooting himself in the foot for it now.   
  
“Well looks like I really screwed the pooch on this one then...” Tony shook his head, he walked over to Stephen and took a seat next to him, hands also folded in his lap.    
  
Too shameful to meet his eyes to look at the massive mistake he’d been on the cusp of making.   
  
“I’m the one who owes you a concession for this.”

The door swung shut when Tony sat down, though there was a part of the sorcerer that wished the man had just left like he’d been planning. He didn’t look up more than to spot his drink again and grab it. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Stark. You were owed an apology at the very least, now you have it. That’s it. That’s all.”   
  
Stephen’s words were quiet and resigned, and more than anything else he seemed tired. He felt exposed and that feeling didn’t sit well with him; like he’d submitted his throat to something he knew was hungry, hoping for whatever reprieve came next. As long as it was a reprieve.   
  
The sorcerer had run through so many thoughts the night before, so many different scenarios and none of them was even close to this, so all of it had just been useless worrying. But now it was out there -  _ said _ and much more  _ real _ for having been spoken - and there was no real way to take it back. Just done, over with, and not something he’d have to think about having to say in the future.   
  
And emotions were  _ exhausting _ things.

“I can see you’re not much a man for words, and I’m not much one for emotions either.” Tony started, a softness to his tone and a hint of mirth. He leaned onto the arm rest of the chair to bring himself a little closer to the mage beside him.   
  
He finally looked up at Stephen, the poor man looked like he was digging a hole in the ground with his eyes, a pit to throw himself into - to be swallowed up by the earth at this very moment. 

There was a pregnant silence between them, then the soft shuffling of clothing as Tony leaned in, fingers lightly curling around Stephen’s bandaged hand before planting a chaste kiss on his brow.   
  
It was fluid movement, an in-and-out type deal, but he still kept his one hand resting on Stephen’s, another attempt to soothe him hoping he wouldn’t pull away this time.   
  
“If it’s any consolation, the feelings are definitely more than mutual, and I was an idiot for missing this, so that’s on me.” He trailed off, eyes ghosting over the sorcerer’s chiseled features.

His hand tensed slightly under the touch, but Stephen left both that and his gaze fixed firmly where they were. His eyes slid closed when Tony’s lips pressed against his brow, but the moment the other pulled away Stephen was quick to take another sip of his drink, shaking his head.   
  
“I’m not sure what feelings are supposed to be mutual. Like I said, I don’t know what I feel. Just confused.” Less so now. Or maybe moreso. It was really all still a jumbled mess in his head.   
  
His rational brain said that if Tony was talking about ‘mutual’ feelings he might mean them romantically, but his rational brain also warned against pursuing a relationship that started off on a note like that. A misunderstanding that could have been avoided by just  _ asking _ ...   
  
At the same time he recognized that if someone had treated him like he had treated Stark after aiding them with something it wasn’t as though he’d be happy either. Especially if he considered the betrayals Stark had already suggested.   


There was another firm squeeze before Tony removed his hand and retreated back to his own space. Tony folded his hands in his lap once again. There were a lot more layers to this than he’d like to admit were there but regardless, Stephen had meant more to him than a simple crush.   
  
He had listened to him as he spoke, trying to put together the words as he could - and from what he could gather Stephen now more than ever needed some sort of breathing space. 

_ How much? _ He didn’t know, but Stephen threw the first figurative stone into the pond when he kissed him last night before they parted ways - and that was something Tony planned to hold onto and use as a reference point.   
  
Stephen’s brows drew together slowly as he set the glass back on the table once again and looked at the brunette wearily. 

“Or do you mean you want to be friends?”  
  
“I’ve got feelings and hell if I know how far they extend. I like you, Stephen - as high school as that sounds, it’s more than just a damn crush at this point - infatuation? Who knows. But you attract the hell out of me.” He stated, there was no delay in his words as he spoke with assurance on his part. He ended on that note and let the silence absorb what he said a moment before speaking again.   
  
“I’m going to let you figure this out, whatever it is you’re dealing with on your side of things...” He started again trailing off. His voice had lowered in submission to that fact. Even when things were supposedly clear as day with Stephen, there was yet another layer to it all to go and complicate things once again.

Stephen chewed on those words.

**_Oh_ ** ...  _ more than a crush _ … Stephen settled for holding his own hands at that, his gaze dropping to them before raising again to look at Tony, a hint of confusion on his features even as he tentatively reached out for the other man’s hand again.   


Allowing the sorcerer to cautiously seek out his own hand, when he felt those shaky digits pressed against the skin of his hands Tony rotated his palm to greet them, fingers once again lightly curling over the doctor’s.   
  
Stephen’s thoughts clicked slowly into place as he brushed his fingers over Tony’s, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“... I like you too. About eighty percent of the time, anyway.”   
  
The sorcerer’s smile stayed small, but there was a hint of teasing in his tone. There was a reassurance in Tony’s words that he hadn’t expected. It had hit him hard and fast, dominos starting to fall across his mindscape to build into the inevitable final picture.   
  
“So what are you going to do about it?”  
  
“Well, first of all I’m going to figure out where the other twenty percent of that went.” Tony’s eyes flicked up in a challenging smirk, following Stephen’s banter as he paved the way with his words.   
  
“And then I’m going to heckle you about not wearing that lovely gift I made for you. I’m honestly hurt.” Referring to the digital wizard hat that was  _ clearly _ missing from the picture.    
  
“But immediately? I’m going to take away your liquor, you’ve had too much, I can smell it from here booze-breath.” He sassed, reaching over with his other hand to nab at the sorcerer’s glass to finish off whatever was left inside. He made sure to make a display of it, daring Stephen to stop him.

“You consider a glass and a little bit ‘ _ too much _ ’?  _ You _ ?” Stephen sniffed at the other’s impertinence.   
  
Maybe it  _ was _ too much, though.    
  
He’d drank quickly. His stomach had been in knots and while they hadn’t released entirely there was a certain light-headed elation that came with the alleviation of  _ some _ of his nerves. 

That left him happy. 

He was also a touch on the sleep-deprived side, by his own fault.    
  
So in the end, perhaps Tony was right. He didn’t need to be drinking any more alcohol. Besides, he’d already said the hard stuff now, sort of.   
  
Right? So that barrier was passed.   
  
_ A lot of barriers _ were passed if he considered the fact that he was sitting in his foyer holding hands with Tony, and there was a strangely comforting warmth in that action. His hands often felt cold - hazards of scar tissue and metal rods limiting blood flow in the area - but for that moment his hand felt  _ warm _ . His  _ arm _ felt warm like it radiated from the spot Tony held and it was a pleasant, soothing warmth.   
  
“Fine.” Stephen’s other hand summoned a glass of water, though he cast Tony a brief look before sipping at it like the other might accuse him of getting a cup of straight vodka or sake or something equally clear but alcoholic.    
  
“ _ I’ll be good. _ ”


	8. It's A Date!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss, a plan and a giant mess...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2019 everyone! Have some of Bravehardt's beautiful art if you haven't already seen it!

Tony had withdrawn rather reluctantly from his seat beside Stephen.

In lieu of recent events it made it difficult not to want to sit and just bask in the sorcerer’s company. He could get lost sitting just thinking of pleasant thoughts while gently stroking the sorcerer’s scarred hand. There was a comfort in knowing that this was where the both of them _wanted_ to be at that exact moment.  
  
No ambiguous jests, no words that held double-meanings or even phrases for that matter, just honesty and openness to oneself and to each other.  
  
Tony had offered to take a moment to set up the scaffolding and ladder as Stephen sat and sobered up. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to be painting in this condition - his hands were already unsteady enough without the alcohol added into the equation.

Not to mention he most definitely didn’t want Stephen climbing or sitting atop ladders in his state.  
  
Through all the frustration and confusion a resolution had been found, and while this didn’t change _everything_ \- it changed _something_ in their dynamic for the better. Things were new, fragile and tender, and the admission of feelings far from meant that he would be throwing himself into the arms of the other man at first chance - _they still needed to work on that._  
  
While Tony was perfectly comfortable with everything, it was clear Stephen needed time to figure out exactly what he wanted out of this.

It made Tony nervous, his thoughts tinged with self-doubt, but he had to remind himself that this would need to be handled with care and nothing could be rushed. They’d both torn down a figurative emotional blockade walling each other off and were taking turns exploring beyond its boundaries into vastly unknown territory.  
  
By this point Tony was perched on the top of the ladder painting quietly, lost in deliberation. He’d already managed to knock out a couple more runes efficiently, occasionally glancing down to the sorcerer he’d forced to sit and recover from his buzz.

Christine was going to drive Stephen crazy. He’d sent the woman three texts in total. _Three._ And the cheery opening of a song seemed to spout from his phone every two minutes as Christine insisted upon a response. Which Stephen probably should have expected.

If he’d anticipated anything _other_ than his ex-girlfriend and current best friend (frankly he didn’t have enough friends to categorize who was best, so Christine and Wong shared that title) assaulting him with a flurry of questions and a demand for an explanation it was because he’d never had the conversation with Christine before.  
  
Hell. _She_ had asked _him_ out to dinner, so he hadn’t even really had this conversation with her about liking _her_ .  
  
The phone vibrated once more in his hand and rather than looking at it, his gaze flickered upward to check on Tony.

He’d been too anxious to just leave Tony up there on the ladder on his own and the cloak that draped itself over a chair near nearby was proof of that. It wasn’t hovering or attempting to draw attention to itself, but it sat in wait in case anything went awry.

That was all he needed - just the little assurance that Stark was safe.  
  
Why he’d decided he was going to paint on his own, Stephen couldn’t have guessed. He would have been perfectly content to just sit and talk for a bit. Not about anything serious necessarily. Just talk.  
  
A second vibration made Stephen groan softly as he finally checked his phone again. Her break should be over soon, but that didn’t change the fact that eventually he’d have to explain what. _‘I think I like someone.’ ‘No one you’ve met.’_ and _‘I actually have no idea how to do any of this right.’_ meant.

Christine had decided it was her goal to figure out who it was. The list of names that she went through _did_ in fact include someone named Tony, but not someone Stephen knew.

It had still given him pause.  
  
Rather than responding to any of the texts he sighed softly and leaned back into his chair, looking to where the brunette was working.  
  
“So when those runes are all finished are you still going to have an excuse to visit? You don’t need to rush them, you know…”

Tony seemed to have zoned out for a bit, the act of filling in those runes one by one was monotonous mind-melting work but not necessarily in a bad way. It allowed him a moment of mental reprieve, to think and just let his mind rest for a moment - just as it was when he busied himself in his workshop.

Most artists would call it ‘getting in the zone’ and perhaps others had different terminology of that particular head space.  
  
The engineer looked down from his perch, Stephen was right - after this there really weren’t any _excuses_ for him to be coming over, but did he necessarily need one? He’d looked down at the sorcerer, the answer staring right back up at him.  
  
It was cute how passively Stephen worded his query, but those words were easy to decipher in the right manner for those who knew where to look for the answers. And that brought a smile to his face.  
  
“Excuse? _I’m looking at it_ right now.” He set the paintbrush down, there were about five more runes in total and he could easily draw those out but the work was simple enough and quick.  
  
“Unless you mean reasons _aside_ from mister tall, dark and brooding?” He leaned on his knees, peering down with a grin.

“Hm, is that supposed to be _me_ ? Do I brood?” The doctor inquired, looking a little curious for a moment. Maybe he had gotten broody in his old age. More likely he was just exhausted most of the time and disappeared into his thoughts but… wasn’t that sort of brooding anyway?  
  
“Or are you suggesting that I’m trying to hatch eggs? Because I assure you the only eggs in this house are for eating or decoration. None are meant to hatch.” It would be interesting if one or two did, though. Possibly problematic, but interesting.

“Ok, ok I get it - way to take a joke and just deconstruct it to pulp.” Tony was making hand gestures so pronounced he’d started to rock the ladder a bit. He steadied himself and began to climb down the ladder, securing the painting supplies before he hopped off and onto the cool tiled floor.  
  
Thoughts of eggs aside, Stephen watched Tony with a soft but warm smile.

Christine had put it simply: _’Ask her out for dinner you idiot!’_ It didn’t matter that at that point Christine had simply assumed the unnamed and ungendered individual was a woman - or even human, he supposed - the advice was sound.

So he took a deep breath, and gave it a shot.  
  
“Does that mean you might be interested in staying for dinner?”

There was a certain anticipation as Tony slowly made his way over to Stephen with a little bit of silence, plodding over and hiding his hands behind his back as if to veil something.  
  
“I would love to - I do have one condition despite saying your debt was repaid though.” Tony’s hands had moved a little behind his back and he stood in front of Stephen with a wide grin as if he was plotting something _devious_.

Despite the butterflies he’d had before, Tony’s words quickly forged the nerves of anticipation into something harder in Stephen’s stomach, but his expression barely flickered as he watched him approach.

It took him a half a moment before something clicked and he tilted his head a little. “You want me to wear the hat.”  
  
He hoped that was the case, and there was an odd sense of certainty that came with it but he waited patiently, watching Tony carefully in case that was _not_ the case. It wasn’t as though there weren’t any number of things people could want from him - but he could imagine there were a few different things _Tony_ could want that weren’t exactly _typical_ requests.

“Wow, you really are no fun at all.” Tony shook his head, the figurative balloon of an ego deflated at having his surprise spoiled.  
  
He pulled the hat out again, this time it was _animated._

The little blue hat, dancing on it’s rig, swaying back and forth like a cartoon disney-esque mushroom, jumping on spot. He leaned in and plopped the graphic on Stephen’s head and it really went leaps and bounds to undercut his tone once again.  
  
“Wear the damn hat.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, a very non-threatening and amused expression on the shorter man’s face as if daring him to remove it. “And where are those ruby-red slippers I was promised!? You didn’t think I had forgotten about those either, did you?” He chastised softly.

Stephen’s hand only lifted to nab his phone from the table, rotating his camera a moment so he could actually take a look at the hat, seeming particularly confused.

“... Stark, what have you done to my hat? It’s moving on its own.”

“You know, I just programmed a little AI into it. It may not talk but it will respond here and there. I figured you could use something with a little bit of a pep.” He was rather proud of himself.

“You have one sentient piece of outerwear, why not two?” He couldn’t help but nab a picture, tapping something on the rim of his glasses to save the video reaction, the confusion was absolutely priceless.  
  
The cloak definitely had thoughts about that, whipping its way through the room to settle on Stephen’s shoulders again, edges of the collar pressing at his face while they stretched up towards the hat.

At first the sorcerer was concerned that the cloak was somehow _against_ the idea of him having _two_ pieces of clothing capable of moving on their own, though it seemed content once it had touched at the hat and found it harmless.

He paused long enough to snap a quick picture (Christine would find it entertaining as much as confusing, he was certain) and set the phone back on the table. Grey eyes settled on Tony again as he stood from his seat, before smiling.

“I’ll wear the hat.” His hands lifted to settle on either of Tony’s shoulders as he carefully planted a peck on Tony’s cheek.

The kiss came as a surprise to Tony, the forward action heavily juxtaposed all preconceived notions of reservation he held in opinion of Stephen.

“Of _course_ I will. But don’t wait up on those slippers, unless you’d like an illusion to tide you over.”

When Stephen stood up again, he suddenly felt dwarfed by the other’s size, so used to having the upper hand. Not to mention the collar of the red cloak seemed to add to Stephen’s silhouette and broaden his shoulders.

His hands meekly rose to Stephen’s hips just below his cummerbund, lightly curling into his ebony tunic as he tilted his head, brushing along his cheek as he went one step further and returned a kiss to the sorcerer lightly on the lips.  
  
“You’re not going to get away with those rogue kisses for long, I want a proper one at some point.” He teased, muttering into his lips having leaned into his space to push his chest up against the doctor’s front.

It took a heartbeat and the cloak had wrapped itself forward around Tony, accepting his closeness just as much as Stephen in that moment. With all the teasing this was hardly what Stark had expected to come of this.

In that moment where he’d been swept up by crimson, his heart dropped into his stomach as their forms were compacted together in the relic’s clutch. It was hard to describe the exact sensation, of having both Stephen’s hands on his shoulders and the cloak wrapped around his body like he’d been folded into a giant blanket or pair of wings. He could have easily pegged this on Stephen but he knew full well that the cloak had a mind of its own despite obeying it’s master.

A hand slid from Tony’s shoulder to the side of his neck and Stephen’s thumb brushed lightly against the man’s jaw as his eyes focused on the man’s brown ones behind his glasses.  
  
“ _Very well._ ” His words were barely a whisper against Tony’s lips, taking what sounded for all intents and purposes very much like a _go ahead_ to him as encouragement to close the distance for a proper kiss.

Tony couldn’t help but make some surprise muffled noise as he’d been snatched up like a little critter. He had yet again miscalculated, misunderstood Stephen and just how docile the man **_wasn’t_**.

It was gentle to start. Stephen’s heartbeat felt _loud_ in his ears, and while he didn’t exactly _want_ to give Tony the opportunity to pull away from the kiss - he left just enough slack regardless. He was careful about the movement of his head, not wanting to dislodge the hat as his eyes fell closed entirely.  
  
The mystic didn’t know for certain if the hands on his hips _actually_ were warm enough for their heat to pierce through the cloth, or if it was a psychological response to the weight of Tony’s hands, but his chest certainly felt warm. He felt completely flushed, especially where Tony was in direct contact with his body and his face.

Tony awkwardly removed one of the hands on Stephen’s hip, and while the fingers of the other curled in tighter to grip at coarse blue fabric, his now free hand wiggled up between them to gently brush his knuckles along the side of Stephen’s jaw. For the first time he was finally able to touch and handle the object of his desire after long passing days of thoughts and dreams of him.  
  
The engineer’s chest felt like it was on fire, and there was a moment where he needed to break away from the gentle lip lock to take in a deep breath only before pushing back their liplock. He enclosed his own lips around the other man’s maw and dared to force himself deeper on him in retaliation, breaching the other’s lips with his tongue and relishing in the sensual, passionate gesture. All while his digits rest lightly along his cheek and the base of his thumb drew gentle caresses over the prickling hairs that framed the bony ridge of his face.  
  
_This was actually happening._  
  
He found it hard to believe.

When Tony first broke the kiss, Stephen’s brain had fuzzily decided that meant their kiss was over, so he was mildly startled by Tony not only returning but doing so with a certain intensity. For a brief moment he considered whether his mouth still tasted like whiskey - he’d had a lot of water since, but it was a challenge to tell what one’s own mouth tasted like at times - before thought fled him.  
  
His body slowly relaxed against Tony’s further, a hand dropping down to wrap around the shorter man’s waist. Stephen’s arm held lightly, but his fingers curled into the back of Tony’s shirt and gripped steadfast between Tony and the cloak.  
  
It felt nice to hold someone against him like that again, to touch, and kiss, and surrender. He thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his mouth being explored and It felt nice to feel Tony’s heartbeat under his own hand and even to wonder for a moment if it was in fact Tony’s heartbeat or his own. It felt like it was beating erratically - it was probably his own, but it seemed steadily harder to tell and that felt nice too.

He was nervous, but nervous with anticipation. It was something old, yet completely new and this feeling sparked intrepid wonder that he could only indulge in further. Not wholly knowing where he ended and Tony began… there was a strange _security_ in that.  
  
So why Stephen eventually pulled away even the sorcerer couldn’t really have said, but he did. His eyes opened to focus on the brunette with a slightly dazed look and a contented smile.

Tony’s eyes had shut and his head tilted in towards the magus. Truth be told he was so nervous that if Stephen hadn’t broken that passionate lip lock he probably would have gone blue in the face from lack of oxygen.

His thumb continued it’s tender caress, finally settling at the base of his ear in front of his tragus. Curled fingers had slightly splayed on the curvature around Stephen’s scalp as he held the man in place to just savor the moment. Likewise Tony made no attempts to move, consumed by the afterglow of the joint gesture.  
  
“Mm… Was that _proper_ enough for you…?” The doctor inquired quietly, his voice husky as he took a couple of careful breaths to try and quell his heart. But the cloak hadn’t released its hold on them, and Stephen made no move to create further distance, simply pressing his forehead against Tony’s to watch the other.

A soft laugh escaped Tony as his eyes cracked open, narrowing in on the sorcerer’s collar as he spoke just as quietly in a low gravelly voice.  
  
“I can say I’m thoroughly satisfied.” He responded softly, heaving heavy breaths in and out against the other. A rippling heat had spread through his veins almost paralyzing him, making his limbs feel heavy as if they were asleep.

He could move, but he _didn’t want to_ …  
  
“I don’t suppose you managed to sneak some sort of magic into that? … or it might just be me.” He murmured softly under his breath. Nails lightly grazing the back of Stephen’s scalp as they worked through his dark locks of hair.

“... no,” Stephen murmured softly into the spot, taking a couple of deep breaths to try and clear the heat from his face. “No magic. Not on my part.”

“- and _thoroughly?_ ” Stephen repeated, rolling the word around his mouth as though he was considering it. And he was.  
  
It was hard not to consider what else _thoroughly satisfied_ could have meant when Tony’s breaths kept tickling so near to his throat, obvious against the heated skin, or when - _damn him_ \- Tony’s nails scratched at his scalp and drew a soft noise from him, sending a full shiver running through his body.  
  
He might not have considered how red his face was before - but he could feel the full heat of a blush across his face _now_ .  _So he hid it._ Stephen’s face tucked itself away into Tony’s hair as though that would somehow take back whatever that noise had been.

It wouldn’t - he knew better, but he could maturely deal with it by _ignoring it and hiding_.

“Well it’s everything I expected it would be, if not for a few times where you really surprised me with some moves out of left field.” Tony began to ramble on softly. “The cloak was a nice touch, though I don’t think I can necessarily credit you for that…”  
  
His face was red and hot, but it was nothing to hide. His cherry red features matched by Stephen’s own (which he didn’t miss) but he did nothing to hide it. His gut continued to stir anxiously, wanting more but it was in his best interest to leave things as they were lest he push too far.

It was as he had stated, thoroughly satisfied - and anything else would just be greedy and ruin the moment at this point.  
  
He relaxed into the coarse fabric of Stephen’s front, head having dropped to the other’s shoulder resting on one of the folds of the cloak’s collar. Despite the crimson being a very stimulating colour, it relaxed him. It was something he’d grown to know as characteristically Stephen, a familiar friendliness.  
  
“You know I could just stand here all day with you, but nothing would get done.” He started, mainly referring to the runes. ”Unless you’re ok with that…”

“O-oh I’ll-” Stephen’s voice had started out a little awry, before he cleared his throat softly and began to straighten himself, finally releasing the back of Tony’s shirt.

The cloak seemed to take the hint enough to drape itself at Stephen’s back again on its own, but Stephen didn’t step away. His voice was more composed and business as usual when he spoke again, though the warmth lingered.  
  
“I can take care of the last couple tonight myself, don’t worry about it too much. You got _a lot_ done and I could hardly ask for it to have been done better. So for now just be my guest and relax, and… We can figure out what to do for dinner?”  
  
He’d planned originally to just pop by the local deli for a sandwich for dinner - especially after his battle with lunch - but he’d asked Tony to stay for dinner. After all his work, Tony definitely deserved better than _just a sandwich._

Realistically speaking he had no idea what kind of food Tony even liked and it could be challenging for people to settle on take-out to begin with, so even if dinner was still an hour or so off it wasn’t a bad idea to start thinking about it.

“No, I insist. I can finish up the last few faster than you can pick up the damned paint brush.” There was a persistence to his voice and the second he was going to pull away from Stephen would be when he went to finish off the work he’d left undone.  
  
“I think you’re the one that needs to relax, I could order something in for us, I insist.” He continued to press the topic, refusing to let Stephen just retire him to the sitting room while he took care of a chore that Tony could do in a third of the time.  
  
Tony turned and bumped his forehead against the side of Stephen’s neck, grumbling indignantly into the soft skin while also basking in the scents and tones of the man he was nice and cozied up to.

Stephen remained still for a moment before he looped his arms loosely around Tony’s back in a small hug as he sighed softly, trying not to take to heart the fact that Tony was exaggerating his uselessness here by tempering it with the knowledge that Tony was _just trying to help_ .  
  
“You don’t get to insist on both. Either you finish the painting, or you order dinner. But given that _I_ asked _you_ to stay for dinner, I would very much like to at least treat you to dinner.”  
  
He started to tilt his head to rest it against Tony’s and in a flurry of red the cloak had caught the hat as it started to fall from his head, before it was placed carefully back in place by the fabric. Stephen barely knew what had happened at first, his head rested against Tony, but when he realized he chuckled a little to himself.  
  
“I guess the cloak likes my hat, too.”

“Next thing you know the cloak will be wearing it instead. Get used to sharing your clothing… with your clothing.” He teased, finally withdrawing from the nook of Stephen’s neck with a slow relaxed exhale. He’d also given the sorcerer a gentle heartfelt squeeze as he managed to peel himself away from that warm, soft body he’d been pressed up against.  
  
“Alright I’ll compromise,” Tony started. “Dibs on the runes.”

He gave Stephen’s cheek a gentle pinch and the cloak a light pat as he carefully untangled himself from the magus to tied up those loose ends in the foyer.  
  
“I’ll also allow you one more drink, but it’s gotta be wine or something light.” He insisted “You’ve had enough hard alcohol for the day.” This, coming from the man who had a history for overdoing it with the bottle.

Stephen narrowed his eyes at the other man briefly once he’d stepped away, adjusting his hat appropriately as he straightened before folding his arms. After a moment he simply turned away with a small nod.  
  
“What kind of food do you prefer?” The sorcerer made his way back to his chair, grabbing his phone to start looking through some of the available options.  
  
“I’m _easy_ , Chinese? Pizza? Sushi? Open to anything, I’m not particularly picky.” Tony was already at the base of the ladder getting ready to move it over.

“You say that _now_ but I’ve had the whole ‘Oh I’ll eat whatever, but maybe not any of the things you list’ conversation before.” Stephen quipped absently. Christine was notorious for it. Of course back then if it took her an hour to decide what she wanted Stephen could cook for himself - maybe just something simple, but he could do it. He scrolled through a couple of places before humming in thought.

Tony had started shuffling the ladder over carefully as to try and not topple the paint canister resting on the ladder’s plateau. It was becoming a routine, shifting the ladder, climbing the ladder, and painting the runes one by one with precision until he got to the final stencil.  
  
This one was farther away than he’d expected, and he made a very risky attempt at trying to reach it from his spot, hand braced on the wall as he considered that _maybe this might not be the best idea_.

“Souvlaki?” Stephen called, looking towards the other man, before sitting himself up straight and shooing the cloak towards Tony. It zipped across the room to hover a little restlessly below Tony even as that restlessness echoed itself in the face of its chosen sorcerer.  
  
“Are you trying to get yourself killed in the Sanctum? Is that your goal here? To _literally_ haunt me?” The cloak twitched further, carefully following Tony’s motions, and Stephen resigned himself to allowing Tony to make whatever mistakes he wanted to as long as the cloak was prepared to catch him.  
  
“... Doesn’t have to be souvlaki by the way, it’s a Greek restaurant so if you have a taste for basically anything Mediterranean they’ve got a bit of a selection. What you’d expect of American Greek food.”

“Souvlaki sounds great. I actually know a good place called Laterna. Best homemade pitas, I highly recommend the lamb.” He’d pointed the brush towards him combating at Stephen’s assumptions.  
  
“And that wouldn’t be half bad, if I had to pick a place to roll over and kick the bucket I’d enjoy haunting you.” He let out a soft little chortle, one brush stroke away form completion. Tony took a moment to reach for his phone in his pocket so he could try to pull up the address for the Greek restaurant.  
  
He began scrolling through maps trying to find it and then.  
  
“There!” He made to hold out the phone but unfortunately Tony was about to get what he’d asked for, and maybe it was a little deserved.  
  
The ladder tipped over and Tony’s stomach caught in his throat as he scrambled to counter-balance its weight but at a loss. The brush toppled to the floor, paint following and then Tony right after.

_This is how he died._  
  
_Shit._

It was a twitch reflex. Before Stephen had even thought about it, the portal opened to envelop Tony, another appearing directly over the sorcerer as he dropped his phone aside, his arms reaching up to gather the man - aided with a touch of magic to bring him down carefully. Grey eyes stared sternly at the smaller man for a moment, before he adjusted to sit Tony in his lap, freeing a hand and sticking it out.

Tony was not expecting that at all. He’d expected to hit a hard tiled floor, not fabric and flesh.  
  
He looked rather confused, the phone slipping out of his hand and dropping into his lap from the sudden surprise of the situation. Though a wash of relief flooding over him just the same.  
  
“... You wanted to show me something?” There was something in Stephen’s tone that made it clear that he wasn’t entirely as calm about this as he let on.  
  
_He_ hadn’t fallen and the cloak _would_ have caught Tony, he was certain. Yet his pulse was up and the arm still around Tony held a little tighter, more protectively. It wasn’t as though Tony was going to fall out of his lap - and if he did it wouldn’t be very _far_ \- but for a moment he just needed to make sure the man was good.

_Safe_ .  
  
Stephen was proud of himself for not flinching when the ladder and paint can clattered loudly to the ground, but he _did_ cast the cloak a mournful look.  
  
“Sorry friend, you’re going in the wash.” The dripping cloak didn’t seemed pleased with the notion, drooping much more obviously.

“I guess we’ll need to take a rain check on that haunting then, nice catch!” Trying to make light of the situation, still rather unraveled from the experience but he picked himself back up and tried to pretend like nothing was _amiss._  
  
Tony fumbled around to pick up his phone so he could hold it up and show Strange the website for the food joint, leaning into his chest to show him. He was clearly doing his absolute best to avoid the censuring look that he knew Stephen was currently boring into him with from the lapse in judgement he’d made.

“Or we can just _avoid_ the haunting thing entirely. This building has already seen enough death.” And so had Stephen. _More_ than enough death. His gaze remained fixed and firm on Tony for several moments more before he sighed, leaning back in the chair and cradling Tony against his chest with the one arm, taking the phone with the other to look at the menu.  
  
“Unlike most peoples’ versions of eating anything, I really _will_ eat anything so if this works for you, I’m agreeable.” Stephen shrugged a little, setting the phone down on the table beside his own, before brushing a small smudge of paint off of Tony’s cheek.  
  
He knew there was a mess that would eventually need to be cleaned up - a mess of paint that had splashed over the cloth draped along the floor and leaving a lovely glowing pool spreading out over it all.

He knew the Cloak of Levitation would not only need a good washing, but a good old-fashioned hand scrubbing. He knew there was probably even paint on the walls in places it shouldn’t have been.

None of that mattered as much as knowing Tony was fine, so he simply embraced the moment.  
  
“... You really are too _smart_ and too _important_ to be risking your neck doing something as trivial as painting. Please, _use_ that intellect to keep yourself alive.” The words were punctuated with a kiss to the other’s forehead again.

“Hey, we could just consider this a trust fall exercise in which, you and the cloak both passed!” Tony held up two thumbs, he knew he was in trouble and trying to misdirect.  
  
And Stephen just didn’t seem to be buying what he was selling.  
  
This was turning into one of those days where Tony was just being manhandled left and right. He didn’t have a problem with this, it’s just - he was used to making the moves and calling the shots, and right now he wasn’t doing a very good job at it.  
  
He could probably set a counter for the amount of times today he’d been reprimanded for poor choice in actions, and if it got him _this sort of attention_ it would probably be a negative way to reinforce good behaviour.  
  
He let out a soft huff like a pouting child, _he wasn’t a child_ but Tony Stark somehow _still needed an adult_ .  
  
“I’ll help you wash that poor cloak out, there was literally one more stroke left on the rune and the entire thing would have been finalized.” He trailed off, the side of his head resting on Stephen’s shoulder. He brushed another streak of paint off of his chin and wiped it on the bridge of Stephen’s nose.

The affected nose wrinkled a little bit as Stephen recoiled just slightly from the finger, mostly out of surprise at having something glowing so close to his face, but smiled a little to himself and rolled his eyes.  
  
“The cloak isn’t the only one who needs to get cleaned up. You’re _kind of_ a mess.” The sorcerer chuckled warmly. “Though the streak in your facial hair is a good look on you. Put a little on your cheekbones, too. Perfect highlighter,” he teased softly, though he summoned a bowl of warm water and a cloth to the table so that Tony could at least wash his face off if he wanted.  
  
The arm around Tony loosened a little to give the man a bit more range of motion - either to turn and use the bowl, or to leave Stephen’s lap if he wanted - but didn’t slip away entirely.

He was enjoying the closeness and the contact, and when he really thought about it he wasn’t _surprised_ that he’d brought Tony immediately back to his lap instinctively when the man fell. Nor did he regret it.  
  
In fact he didn’t feel embarrassed about the closeness _now_ either. It didn’t feel odd or unusual to have Tony sitting in his lap like this, or to be holding him, or for that to have been an instinct.

“You know I do own a shower and believe it or not it gets used - I’ll be fine.” The shorter brunette was starting to get spicy from the notions that he was being _coddled_ just a bit too much.  
  
“And what about you, you’ve got paint on your face too, and how about this - does this wash off?” He licked his thumb and reached up, brushing it over the greying streak that ran along just past Stephen’s ears. He gave it a couple rough strokes to sass him and then stopped, receding in the other man’s lap and cackling.  
  
He let himself fall back against Stephen’s arm, his own arms crossing over his chest as he looked up rather resiliently at him.  
  
Tony enjoyed making things difficult for Stephen, it was so easy to unravel the nerves of someone so tightly knit, once in awhile you needed to throw a little chaos into the fray - and Tony was exactly that. And now that they had breached a previously impenetrable emotional barricade, there was a lot more the engineer had at his disposal.

Stephen granted the other a soft shrug as he reached forward to dip a corner of the cloth into the water carefully, before ridding himself of the paint on his nose, though he gave Tony a playfully sour look at his attempts to ‘wash out’ his greying hair.  
  
“Been that way since premed. Hasn’t come out so far.” He leaned back into the seat once the paint was off of his own nose, not bothering to mother Tony any further about the paint. “Kept meaning to deal with it, but there are things more important than my vanity right now.”  
  
Stephen’s fingers reached for Tony’s phone again to offer it to him. He didn’t even consider attempting to unlock the device himself, but looked to Tony as he held the phone. “We should probably order something or we’ll be eating late.”

“Already on it, just opened up the app, picked out what I wanted. Let me know what you want off the menu or you can take a look yourself.” Tony veered in, having gotten side-tracked from his impishness.

He’d reclined himself against Strange and lightly snuck his arm around Stephen’s shoulders as a means of getting more comfortable in his lap, one leg hanging down in between his, the other still draped over the armrest of the chair they were seated in.  
  
He held up the screen so the both of them could actually see the list of choices on the app, and also another way that Tony could sit there and stare at the side of Stephen’s head.  
  
If it was on the menu, he would have opted for _something else for dinner._

Stephen was a little surprised at first by the arm around his shoulders, but didn’t seem to complain about Tony’s adjustments. His focus shifted to the screen for a moment as he scrolled through the list with his free hand, selecting something without taking very long to decide - after all, Tony had already given him a recommendation and while once upon a time he might’ve objected to lamb… times had changed. And he’d eaten _so much worse_ .  
  
As the cloak continued to drip paint where it hovered, Stephen looked up briefly to sigh at the poor thing. “I told you you’d need a wash. Go on.”  
  
Like a dog being made to have a bath rather against its desires, the cloak began to slink off into the Sanctum more forlorn than any piece of clothing had a right to look, trailing little spots of paint after it as it made its way to the bathroom.  
  
Tony felt bad for the poor cloak; it was his fault the thing was covered in paint and had Stephen just planned to catch him in the first place it wouldn’t have been necessary to have the thing stationed under the ladder in wait.  
  
Unless Stephen was _just that paranoid_ … which was actually a lot sweeter than it sounded, he couldn’t help but swell with adoration at the thought. Stephen chuckled softly at the cloak, then smiled at Tony.  
  
“There, that’s _food_ dealt with. You said something about there being one more stroke…? Or is this going to be a thing where you’re staying in my lap for a while?”

His arm curled more in its place around Tony briefly as an assurance that he was _perfectly fine_ with that notion, but he didn’t hold tightly enough to prevent Tony from leaving.

“Well… It really depends which type of _stroke_ we are talking about here.” Tony’s voice turned much more impish and he flicked his eyebrows up and down.

He was kidding.

But he couldn’t help but crack that because let’s face it - Stephen walked right into that one.  
  
“I could always pretend to fall again if it makes us both happy.” He reached up and poked Stephen in the cheek.

“You know _exactly_ what kind of stroke I was talking about.” There was a hint of a grumble to his tone, though grey eyes fixed themselves on the table promptly. _Yep. He’d absolutely walked right into that one and he knew it._  
  
There went _any_ chance of him pulling his head out of the gutter though, and with Tony _sitting in his lap_ it seemed a little like _unfortunate timing_ for his mind to be stuck there. He took a slow, deep breath, well aware of the red in his cheeks again and silently cursed himself.

He hadn’t been embarrassed when he joked about leaving Tony with Beatree. Why was it different _now_ ?  
  
That was easy.  
  
_Before_ he was comforted with the knowledge that they were simply _joking_ and were unlikely to act on it.

_Now_ ...? It was possible it wasn’t entirely jokes and innuendo anymore. _Now_ it appeared that kisses and skinship were acceptable and that led to a lot of questions about what _else_ was acceptable.

Questions that it probably wasn’t the best time to ask about.  
  
“I’d much rather you just stayed safely on the ground for the time being. The only falling that’s acceptable here is the kind where you fall for me. Are we clear?”

“By all definitions of the word, it would seem that has already been the case.” Tony was enjoying the amount of colour he’d been able to stir in Stephen’s cheeks. The innuendos were fun and had him _curious_ about their actual direction. It wouldn’t be beyond him to take things a step further, maybe he would if it got another one of those adorable reactions out of Stephen.  
  
So many times had he been put in the position where he was completely tongue tied recently, it would only be fair, right? And if Stephen really didn’t want him moving then...  
  
“You should at least let me finish the job, then I promise I won’t be pretending to be Spider-Man any longer; I’ll leave the parkour to the kid.” He tilted his head up innocently to try and woo the man with a pair of puppy-dog eyes.

Not that he _needed_ Stephen’s permission, Tony was a grown man.  
  
_… right?_

Stephen’s gaze moved from the table back to Tony, and he found himself regretting it. Just a little. After a brief moment he sighed softly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head a bit.

“ _Let_ you? You talk like I can _stop_ you from being whatever you want to be.”

“I’d just like to avoid ‘dead’. Getting to kiss you and then you dying immediately after is a _very_ overdone movie cliché and I assure you I don’t need that kind of motivation.” His tone was light as he spoke and he pressed a brief kiss to Tony’s brow before withdrawing his arms from around Tony, stretching them a little and watching the other man and his puppy-dog look with a distinct fondness.

While Tony did that, he could work on cleaning up the floor and whatnot - maybe put the cloak through a first good washing, _maybe not._ That would leave him a bit on the wet and messy side himself, and he had not only a _guest_ but _food_ incoming to deal with.  
  
Hopefully the cloak would be just fine in it’s self-created wash-cycle, but it was going to be sad about this. Maybe Tony would be amenable to him leaving the hat with his cloak for company until he could get around to washing it and making amends for leaving it a mess.

Stephen _hoped_ the relic would understand, but… it wasn’t exactly a for-sure thing communicating ideas to the cloak.

“OK, I promise this time I’ll be more careful, it’s literally going to kill me to leave this unfinished when it will take a hot second to complete.” Tony argued half-heartedly as he finally managed to tear himself away from Stephen.

His hands lightly combed through the hair on the side of Stephen’s head and he leaned down and returned his own gentle kiss to the sorcerer's forehead before he stepped over to pick up the ladder. “I’ll take care of the mess I made too, this paint won’t just clean itself up.” He shook his head, wondering how he managed to get it everywhere. “Where do you keep the cleaning supplies anyways?”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry. Deal with the rune and check the wall for any spatter. I’ll get the floor cleaned up.” Stephen pulled himself to his feet to start to bundle up the sheets that had been down on the floor with a few quick gestures and began to assess what was left of the mess.


	9. Disaster Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of cleaning up to do in the Sanctum. But some things are never totally clean.

With the hat still perched on his head paired with blue robes and having taken up a mop, Stephen could only imagine the sight he made. Very  _ Sorcerer’s Apprentice _ , aside from the fact that he wasn’t going to just let the  _ mop _ do the cleaning itself.    
  
Tony kept his word, nabbing the paintbrush quickly and scaling the ladder, hitting the rest of the stencil with the final strokes before just as meticulously climbing back down again. He tossed the paintbrush into the water canister and nodded to himself as the final rune shone down, lit with its respective colour.

Tony grabbed one of the wet cloths and started dabbing at the still wet specs of paint, he went around one-by one to all the areas that had spotted and speckled from his little tumble and rubbed them down until the walls were spotless. 

By the time he’d finished he still managed to get paint on his exposed shoulders and nose, wet rag lopped over his shoulder as he picked up the container of water - a now empty paint can and plodded over to Stephen.   
  
“Alright, what should I do with these?” He held up the excess supplies that were lying around and tipped his nose to the rag on his shoulders.   
  
It had to have been Tony’s personality that seemed to attract messes no matter how careful he was, he still managed to once again muddle himself with random streaks and speckles. In all honesty he did feel a bit guilty for the mess; he knew he wasn’t in trouble, nor would there be repercussions from Stephen, but as for the cloak…? He wasn’t so sure on that front. 

He half wondered if he’d be dealing with a very eccentric, angry piece of clothing after all of this. 

_ And just exactly how long could a piece of fabric stay angry _ ?

“They’ll need to be washed out properly, so if you just want to gather everything together I’ll bring it to the laundry room.” Stephen instructed.    
  
Cleaning the mop off in the bucket before wringing it out a little, Stephen moved it back to clean up the last little bit of paint from the floor. Once he was finished with it, grey eyes lifted to check on Tony and the sorcerer simply chuckled at the sight of the engineer.   
  
If Stephen had thought Tony was a mess  _ before, _ this was  _ considerably _ worse. It was hilarious and kind of adorable? But definitely worse in terms of the amount of paint Tony was covered in. And if the other man wasn’t going to wash  _ this _ off… it was going to be an interesting evening of watching the other man glow as he wandered around the Sanctum.    
  
With a very quiet sigh that  _ might _ have been an  _ ’oh Tony…’ _ Stephen collected up the mop and bucket, smiling cheerily enough to himself.

“The laundry room is this way.”

Tony perked up almost like he’d heard his name called outside of the dictated instructions. He nodded his head and carried the items on after Stephen. He caught that smile on Stephen’s face, wondering what he was cackling at now. His only assumption would be that he’d gotten something on his face, more specifically, paint.   
  
He took a moment to glance over the rag, looking down at him.   
  
_ Yup. _   
  
All over his tank, glowing splotches of paint to ally with the already iridescent arc reactor shining through the cotton shirt. At least it added to the small spectacle of a light show and it wasn’t as though he ever minded getting his hands dirty.   
  
“Is your laundry room also haunted?” He couldn’t help but snicker to himself as he followed like a lost child.

“You’re going to have to clarify what you consider  _ haunted _ as a definition at some point. There’s only one ghost in this house - though, admittedly, if something is both dead and alive I’m not certain you’d consider it a ghost. Or is that state of having been dead, and yet clinging to some version of life precisely what makes something a ghost?”    
  
Stephen mused thoughtfully as he led the way fairly easily through a downstairs hall, following a trail of glowing paint to the open the laundry room door with ease. By that logic Stephen himself might have been a ghost and that was an interesting thought. “Why are you so fixated on the idea of this place being haunted, anyway?”   
  
There  _ was _ a noise emitting from the laundry room, but it was the sound of water swishing away openly as the cloak - in a large basin of hot water - attempted in a frenzied flail to get itself clean of paint. The entire corner it occupied was glowing, though it was hard to tell once Stephen turned on the bright overhead light.    
  
The bucket and mop were set against a wall and Stephen’s hands moved to the front of his robes to start removing his outer top - if he was going to stick his hands into the water, he’d at least want to be sleeveless to help the distressed cloak that was churning up far too many bubbles in it’s spot. It seemed to settle a little when the light came on, draping over the side of the basin miserably.   
  
Shrugging off the outer tunic to his sleeveless undershirt Stephen carefully removed his hat from his to set it somewhere safe and dry. Stephen sighed softly and moved over to pat a spot on the cloak’s collar that was  _ wet _ but not with  _ paint _ . 

“There you are. No need to fret.” He gently soothed.

“This place has a mind of its own,”Tony started. Tailing after Strange, he stopped behind him trying to plead his verdict on the house. “It moves, it’s got a damn tentacle room and things move and shake for no reason - bam, haunted!” He reinforced.

Arms crossed Tony stood by and watched Stephen as he worked -  _ he could enjoy that show. _ He observed as the shirt the sorcerer had underneath was much more fitted to him and he probably got the closest to actually seeing the doctor’s physique when he wasn’t wearing baggy clothing or something that didn’t really compliment his apparently rather built form. 

Tony had to stop himself there, his eyes had gone placid as his mind started to wander, mentally starting to undress the darker-haired ‘wizard’.   
  
_ But now wasn’t the time… _   
  
He walked up beside the basin to where the cloak was dejectedly swimming around in the water like an oversized fish in a small tank. 

Again he felt the pang of guilt.   
  
He reached in with both hands as he settled beside Strange and started to run his fingers over the wet fabric, grabbing a nearby sponge and starting to lightly dab and brush at any remnants of what hadn’t been washed away, snickering lightly as he looked at the dancing hat that was placed aside.

“By that logic the cloak is haunted, isn’t it?” Stephen gave the other a curious look, not rejecting his opinion, but certainly seeking to clarify.    
  
How Tony perceived magic was of a natural interest to him, and if his head immediately leaned towards wizards and hauntings that was at least a little insight into where they were at in terms of understanding each other. 

Not that he anticipated he’d be able to understand most of Tony’s technobabble if he got carried away in it. But maybe those would be conversations they’d have, and he couldn’t imagine listening to Tony talk about something he was passionate about being dull to listen to. 

It was interesting to think about, anyway.   


There was a brief pause where Tony continued to just stare straight down into the basin bug-eyed as Stephen put him on the spot. And after that lapse in time wherein you could just imagine the excuses churning in that brain of his.   
  
“... Yes.” His thumb flicked over a glowing splotch, fingers curling into the fabric to lift the certain section of it out of the water to brush at a particularly stubborn speckle of paint. 

The sorcerer’s arms slid into the water with ease as the cloak relaxed against the edge of the basin, clearly relieved for the help and perfectly content to allow itself to be washed. It presented spots it knew needed help, occasionally spilling bubbles over the edge of the basin, or puffing them up into the air as it moved around.    
  
A couple bubbles caught in Stephen’s hair, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care enough to do anything about them as he worked his hands gently over the fabric which was coming clean with ease, thankfully.

Tony’s eyes flicked over to Stephen a few times and he had to suppress an amused snort as the Sorcerer’s clothes and hair were spotted in water and suds. The moisture made the little curl of hair that complimented the precipice of his forehead droop down with a hint of waviness and he couldn’t help but stare. 

It was just so unabashed and charming.   
  
“I think at this rate I’m probably going to need a shower.” He mused, letting go of the handful of red fabric as he’d polished out the stain he’d been working on.

The fabric on the other hand did not let go in return, instead giving Tony a pat at his words and gathering up a sponge of its own as though intending to aid Tony in becoming clean. Stephen’s fingers delicately pulled the sponge from the cloak’s grasp as he shook his head a little at the red fabric. 

Looking as dejected as a piece of clothing  _ could _ , the cloak turned its attentions on the dancing hat.   
  
“You certainly  _ will _ , you’re not as covered in paint as the cloak, but you  _ are _ still a mess. If you’d like that before dinner, I can send you on your way home.” Stephen cast a look to Tony, smiling a bit at the engineer. “Pick you up again when you’re ready to come back? Or… I suppose I could bring dinner to  _ you _ when it arrives.”   
  
The man had already made it clear he had his  _ own _ shower, so despite Stephen’s first instinct - to offer the Sanctum’s shower - he settled on just making a few more portals. 

He knew showering at someone else’s home could be a bit uncomfortable anyway, and that might have  _ really _ pushed boundaries. It would mean a naked Tony in his house. He  _ was not opposed to that _ . But that might have been pushing things a little fast, and Stephen was  _ determined _ to do this  _ right _ .   
  
He’d let Christine down, not considering her feelings and interests on a lot of matters, and he’d lost her for it. She was  _ happy _ in her new relationship and that settled him some, but he’d still let down someone he really did  _ love _ by simply being too involved in his  _ own _ wants. If that meant taking these kinds of things slower…?   
  
Well this wasn’t even  _ really _ a first date, right? Or was it?

“As long as your house isn’t going to try and eat me, or the water faucet suddenly sprout tentacles - I could just use yours.” 

Tony started at the idea, looking to Stephen, he hadn’t minded the cloak’s grip on his hand, he only idly began playing with the fabric, running his fingers through the folds gently kneading it. It was like touching the tail of a goldfish in water, silky soft and smooth. 

It was cute that it was in turn trying to clean him up, but probably not the most productive way of going about it unless they wanted to start a water-war in the laundry room.   
  
“I suppose I’d also need to borrow some clean clothes from you, if you actually have anything I’d fit into.” He commented, looking up at Stephen as to emphasize his point. 

The other man had a good few inches on him and Tony found himself always peering up at him to make eye contact when they were side-by-side.   
  
Tony hadn’t any issue with the idea of being around Stephen, in his residence,  _ in the nude _ . However he still had mixed feelings about the house and the potential of some of the things that went bump-in-the-night, things that would pop out at him unexpectedly.   
  
The engineer looked at his watch, they had about 15 minutes before the food courier was scheduled to arrive (based on the app and the little fork and knife icon retroactively updating on the street map).   
  
“Would that work?”

Stephen was quiet for a drawn out moment as he looked at Tony, clearly thinking the other’s proposition through. Eventually, he nodded a little bit, turning his gaze back to the cloak. 

“The shower is perfectly safe when the Sanctum’s defenses aren’t up.”    
  
Frankly the master bathroom was an impressive thing regardless of whether the Sanctum’s defenses were up or not, but that was to be expected from a building that liked to change itself. 

As to what it might be when Tony walked in, Stephen wasn’t about to make any promises. Maybe it would be better to settle him in one of the other bathrooms…? But it wasn’t as though they were any  _ more _ reliable.   
  
“Would you like to do that now? I can finish taking care of the cloak here while you shower.” The cloak adjusted in the water, raising itself out of the basin for a moment and rotating slowly to show off where it was still mucked up. 

“... I need to change the water out anyway. I don’t think it’ll get much cleaner in water this full of suds and paint,” Stephen chuckled softly, reaching to drain the water from the basin.

Tony once again removed his hand from the basin, shaking his hand off to rid the water from it.   
  
“Yeah, I won’t be too long.” Tony was about to bolt up the stairs but he halted for a moment deciding it was best he’d remove his shirt and leave it down here. It was mostly the only thing that was dirty, his pants had surprisingly missed the mess of paint that he’d mucked himself with.   
  
“Oh, uhh where is the shower anyways? So we don’t have another Peter Parker incident on our hands, except with me instead. I would really prefer not to end up in that room again with that hentai-monster, especially without you there, or a lacking a shirt.” He jested lightly, but jokes asides he was serious about it  _ for now _ . 

Of all things he was by no means embarrassed that he was just standing there in front of Stephen bare-chested, the glowing arc reactor completely exposed.

As soon as Stephen realized what Tony was doing, his gaze lifted quickly to fix on a point just above Tony’s head, a touch of red flooding into his cheeks as he turned to dry his own hands off, starting to run fresh water for the basin with avid focus. 

“Yes, of course. Bathroom. Very good. This way!”   
  
Collecting up a fresh towel and carefully folding it over his hands, Stephen swiftly led the other out of the laundry room again, a tad flustered and growing more so as Tony teased about the tentacle monster in home. Because he needed  _ those _ thoughts right now while he was doing his best to not just blatantly check out the other man. 

And  _ oh how he wanted to _ .   
  
The heat gathered into his ears as his thoughts circled the drain, and Stephen hazarded a brief look back at Tony before ascending the staircase at the end of the hall, allowing his gaze to sweep the upstairs hallway when he reached the upper landing. 

Bathroom… bathroom…  _ Ah, there it was! _   
  
“Here…” Stephen stopped, gesturing to the door before  _ finally _ looking at Tony,  _ clearly _ keeping his eyes on Tony’s face with fixed intent. It didn’t stop his peripheral vision from picking out defined lines of muscle though, and despite his efforts he cast a brief glance down before catching himself.

“Stephen - hey.” Tony snapped his fingers in his face. “The rest of me is down here.” He gestured with his hands to his bare-chested midsection. “Stop acting like a catholic school nun, you’re allowed to look.” He teased with light-hearted quips and jests meant to do nothing more than play with the other.

_ He wasn’t actually serious in the implications _   
  
“The master bathroom.” The flush of the other’s face was on full display as he focused his gaze back on Tony’s eyes and offered a small smile. “Use whatever you like.”

“Thanks boo, I’ll be sure to  _ make good use of it _ .” And to only further add fuel to the fire he leaned in, pressing himself up against Stephen - fabric to bare chest, planting a kiss right on his cherry-red nose.

Tony had a rather cocky grin on his face. He was well aware of the effect he was having on his host and he was prepared to poke and prod the poor man for everything before he let Stephen get away.   


There was that moment where Stephen was forced to look him in the eye as he stood there before bidding him farewell. It was clear there was a struggle of morals going on in his head, something of dignity v.s. pride v.s. libido as he could tell the magus was only attempting to make eye-contact with his face and his face alone.

So maybe Stephen was thoroughly embarrassed.  _ Maybe _ he wanted to have a clever response.  _ Maybe _ he wanted to have any idea how to process any of what was going on in his head.   
  
But he didn’t. 

His brain had crashed. Stephen.exe had failed and was slowly attempting to restart as the rush of blood in his face overwhelmed his brain. A hand reached out mechanically to open the bathroom door, but it was a few more seconds before Stephen lifted his head just a little to brush his lips briefly against Tony’s.    
  
“... go clean up, Mister Stark,” he grumbled quietly, “-before you have  _ other reasons _ to need to get clean.”   
  
Stephen gently - and a little insistently - pressed the towel forward. He was sure there was something else he was supposed to do. Something that didn’t involve redirecting them towards the bedroom… or the floor. He was fine with the floor. He could  _ hardly _ be picky right now…   
  
… what was that thing?

“Lost first name-basis? I’m hurt…” Tony jested softly, the terry cloth fabric being pressed into his chest implying he was to leave. He didn’t push it, he’d already broken Stephen and the poor man was old enough that he’d take about fifteen minutes for this processor to properly boot up again.   
  
He had attempted to chase those lips that went to meet his but he got the message and turned.   
  
“And for the record, I’m always dirty.” He pointed at his head. “This, right here doesn’t just come out with  _ just one wash _ .” His eyes narrowed with a coy smile. “You can come along and try though.” 

He took a step back maintaining eye contact with the doctor, taking the towel he was offered before back peddling slowly away from Stephen as if there was a chance he’d suddenly change his mind.   
  
Of course it would surprise Tony if in fact he did, but he enjoyed the fantasy of the idea and his words always did tend to stretch a lot farther than his actual actions.

“You are literally temptation incarnate, aren’t you?” The doctor groaned softly to himself, closing his eyes tightly as he desperately attempted to rattle any of his thoughts into proper order. Closing his eyes made his mental images a bit more vivid, and he promptly opened them again, watching Tony intensely as he considered his options.   
  
His gaze slowly traveled down the other’s figure for a moment, finally giving the man a thorough appraisal, before grey eyes flicked back up quickly and Stephen stepped forward a moment, just enough to grab the doorknob firmly. 

There were a lot of things going through his head,  _ ’temptation’ _ was not a strong enough word for what Tony Stark was, he was beginning to realize that.   
  
What had he gotten himself into? He had no way of knowing just  _ how _ serious Tony was being in that moment and  _ a part of him _ wanted to stay. In every way. Just stride into the bathroom, close the door behind him and take the presented excuse to run his hands  _ everywhere _ Tony would let him.   
  
But what kind of relationship  _ was _ this? What kind of relationship did he  _ want _ this to be? Therein lay his hesitation.   
  
_ Absolutely _ he hoped there would be some physicality to it - no hesitation there, just  _ yes, _ for sure. But that wasn’t  _ all _ he wanted out of it, and if he indulged now… what kind of message did that send? Besides, they hadn’t talked about any of it -  _ and for all he knew Tony was joking. _   
  
“I’ll be downstairs when you’re finished up here,” Stephen stated quietly, though he didn’t bother to hide the struggle he’d had coming to that decision. “I don’t imagine  _ fifteen minutes _ is sufficient time for anything else anyway.”   
  
And the cloak was waiting. 

That was the thing he’d forgotten. The cloak needed attending to, still, and eventually so would the front door… and they deserved better than to be interrupted like that. So he took a deep breath, casting his gaze down over Tony’s body once more with a hint of regret. 

“Perhaps another time…?”

“The voice of reason here.” Tony let out an exasperated sigh. 

_ This close. _ He thought, but there was truth in Stephen’s words. 

Fifteen minutes would have easily been enough for him. He’d make it work. But for something more deeply connecting and intimate? Like this? It would have been an insult to everything they’d built this all up to be.   
  
_ Surely they both deserved better than that. _   
  
“Rain check, I like it.” He stated with a soft wink, dancing around on his feet in a sort of teetering motion as his gaze tethered to Stephen. 

“Good excuse to have me wine and dine you properly. Oh and I expect candles and some other sort of cliche if we are going to build it into something proper.” 

Shifting the towel underneath his arm he pointed to Stephen in a light-hearted serious manner before blowing a kiss and shuffling off into the bathroom.   
  
Stephen wasn’t joining him, so there was no need to rush, but on the other hand that didn’t stop him from taking care of some  _ other business _ of his own accords. 

All it took was a good imagination and some  _ radial dexterity _ , which Tony had ample of.   
  
Just the idea of Stephen’s low gravelly voice on his ears, that tiger-like gaze fixed on him and an image of his wet, bare, chest - heaving - was enough to get the blood pumping for him. 

And only to add to that was the intense whirlwind of feelings he had for the mage that seemed to turn his insides to jelly at first thought.   
  
Tony shut the door to the bathroom, turning on the faucet until it reached an ideal temperature. He stepped in and for the next thirteen minutes Stark would have his temporary moment of  _ respite _ .


End file.
